


System

by StylishChocobutt



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, AU where Prompto is Ardyn's personal MT, Angst, Gen, Imperial!Prompto, Loqi features in it too, MT!Prompto, Pre and post Insomnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2018-10-22 10:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10694829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StylishChocobutt/pseuds/StylishChocobutt
Summary: When NH-01987 (MT!Prompto) is ordered to accompany Ardyn Izunia to Insomnia, he does as he is commanded. All is going seemingly well until a certain obnoxious Prince takes an interest in him. NH-01987 has a week at the Citadel before he's to be deployed elsewhere, and despite orders he can't help but explore.AU where Prompto never escaped Niflheim and is Ardyn Izunia's personal MT unit for the trip to Insomnia.





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Soo, I needed a distraction and ended up starting this fic.  
> Let me know what you think! Next chapter will be longer, as this one just sets up the scene.

The first-time NH-01987 laid eyes on the grand Crown City of Insomnia, it had been absolutely and utterly breath-taking. Bright lights shimmered and danced across the mystical barrier that protected the land within from both the Empire and Daemons alike. Towering white skyscrapers were visible just over the height of the wall, reflecting the sunlight and cascading it off in a spray of colour. The heat of that very sun bore down on him, heating the metal that lined his armour, decorated with grand reds and golds that the Chancellor had so _kindly_ bestowed upon him. It had been modelled off a Griffon, with the colours mixing together to resemble the creature’s feathers. A single plate sat on his shoulder, shaped in the depiction of the mythical being’s face, and from this plate draped a long cloak that covered his arm and spread around to his back; possibly the most pleasant looking part of the armour, metallic feather-shaped plates were woven together in fiery designs that glinted in the sunlight, casting dazzling shapes across the ground around him. His helmet was far from the standard military issue, a golden guard that hid his face entirely from the world around him. Metallic wings spread back and covered his ears, tinged silver on the tips.

He sucked a small breath in of appreciation for the architecture before returning his gaze to the man in question; who currently stood just ahead of him. Ardyn Izunia’s arms were raised rather loosely in the air as the Crownsguard approached; having been called by the border control they’d just rattled. A sickly smile spread across his cheeks, his amber gaze settling on the soldiers that were now surrounding the pair.

“Now now, is that any way to treat an unarmed traveller and his companion?” The Chancellor droned before glancing straight back at him.

“Doesn’t look unarmed to me.” Stated one of the guards bluntly, turning their gaze also to him. 

NH-01987 refused the urge to shift awkwardly on his footing, rather glad that his helmet hid the way he tried to glance away under the scrutinising gaze. To the others; he merely appeared to be standing motionlessly. A stance befitting of the parts of him that whirred and grinded, metal on metal. The guard’s words were indeed true: a gun was holstered against his side. The Quicksilver MK III, a sturdy weapon in its own right but even more so as it had been modified by the Empire, loading bullets that were particularly nasty and could onset a number of unpleasant conditions. The gun itself was white, with one sharp and stark crimson streak running down the barrel. 

“Oh my, you’re right. NH, be a sweet boy and hand these lovely men your gun, would you?” The way Ardyn feigned innocence at the knowledge only further irritated the guards, yet NH-01987 was quick to oblige with the request. Slipping a plated hand to the weapon, he unclasped it before leaning to place it against the dusty ground. With one small kick, it spun across the dirt and stopped just short of the Crownsguard.

He retrieved it without hesitation.

“Now, if you’d be as kind as to tell his Highness that Ardyn Izunia, Envoy of Niflheim is here to seek an audience, I’d be oh-so grateful.”

It was those very words that had the two of them finally accepted access to the City; though not without a rather hefty group of Crownsguard as an escort. The Chancellor walked ahead with a sway in his step, tipping his hat back to glance up at the imposing buildings with an unidentifiable expression plastered on his lips. NH-01987 would have studied this look further, had he not been immediately distracted by the sights around him. People bustled with a sense of duty at the Wall, running from one station to the next with piles of reports, weapons, and much more; not even sparing a glance for the out-of-place escort that had just entered. There was no fear in their eyes, no suppression that he’d become used to seeing on the streets of Gralea, nothing but determination and loyalty. It was odd to see, and he could barely tear his gaze away from it. Alas, he was ushered forward – although, not physically as no one seemed keen to approach the unit – and he soon found himself sat in the back of a car alongside Ardyn.

The ride in the car felt far too quick for his liking. Buildings, shops, people, everything zoomed by in the space of seconds as the car drove further into the heart of Insomnia. The shop signs shone brightly, lit up with large bulbs and advertising some of the most appetising foods NH-01987 had ever seen.

“NH.” The words snapped him out of his thoughts, as he mechanically turned his head towards the Chancellor in response. Words weren’t needed.

That same smirk sat on the man’s lips. “Enjoying the view?” It was almost as if he had read his mind- if that was even possible. Still, NH-01987 didn’t let even the slightest movement give himself away. Returning his gaze forward, he let his mind fall back into the state it should have been; a blank slate ready for orders.

Because that’s all he was. A Magitek Unit in service of the Empire.

A low chuckle left his companions lips, the man shaking his head as he adjusted his hat. “I thought as much. Are you _excited_ to meet the King of Lucis? I’m sure you are. After all, who _wouldn’t_ want to meet royalty?”

The car trip ended far more abruptly than he would have liked, and the two were finally stood outside their destination. The Citadel towered above them, the gleam of the crystal shining through the centre of the building; causing a rather uneasy and sickening feeling in his programming. Was he malfunctioning? Could the Crystal make an MT malfunction? He hoped not. The two were led through more gates before up the large steps and into the main foyer of the building, and he took a moment to glance his sights over a poster that illustrated the main floors. They were heading up to the audience chamber, which was situated roughly half way up; accessible by the elevator they were herded in to. It was cramped, but allowed for himself, the chancellor and two of the Crownsguard to fit. No one said a word as it began its ascension up the building, but NH-01987 could see the smirk still plastered on the Chancellors face. As if sensing he was being watched, amber eyes glanced over at him; and if NH-01987 had been even the slightest bit human he was sure he’d have flinched under that gaze.

Soon enough, they were stood beyond two great doors.

“The envoy from Niflheim awaits without, your Majesty.” The words were muffled from the other room, yet NH-01987 could hear them well enough.

The doors swung open, and the Chancellors previous smirk seemed to relax; into something that almost resembled a _friendly_ smile. It didn’t suit him, but it was convincing. With the two guards in front, he strode into the following chamber as if he owned the place; with NH-01987 following just behind.

“Hello there! Hello! Good day to you!” He swung his hands as he walked, not a care in the world for how informal his approach was. Lazily, he waved one hand over at the seated Council around the chamber, in the direction of one of the women. “And you. Well met, my dear Lucians.” It was like watching a well-rehearsed performance, one polished by age and practice. Ardyn ended his greeting by swinging both arms aside, barely a moment passing before someone knew spoke.

“Has Niflheim grown so bold?” A voice of authority rung out across the chamber, and NH-01987 finally mustered enough will to look up at the throne. Two sets of steps ascended up to it, and the chair was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Lines of gold etched into a black and silver base, with a deep red velvet as a centre cushion. And in that chair sat a man, who’s very presence made NH-01987 want to shrink under its weight. This was the King of Lucis, the man who currently maintained the Wall and held the might of the Crystal in his grasp. King Regis. At Ardyn’s entrance he had leaned himself forward in the chair, and even now disbelief seemed to line his aged features. “That they send the Chancellor himself as envoy? And under but one guard, at that.” His gaze briefly drifted to NH-01987, though it lasted a mere second; something the Unit was glad for.

“It is an honour to be recognized by the great King Regis, yet, permit me to stand on ceremony and introduce myself nonetheless.” The Chancellor finally paused in his stride at the base of the steps. “Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim.” He cast his gaze around the room before removing his hat and dropping into a deep bow; his left winged arm tucked behind him. “At your _humble_ service. Behind me is my Unit, pay him no heed.”

“And I come to you on this most auspicious of days to offer terms of peace.”

“Peace?” King Regis echoed, his brow furrowing at the concept.

Ardyn barely have him a moment to get the word out, already continuing his speech. His act. “As you’ve no doubt surmised, that recent manoeuvre of ours was no strategic retreat. Call it…” He paused, before stepping his foot hard down on the stairs. “A gesture of Imperial good will.” And with that, he began to climb those stairs one by one, slowly and dramatically. “Like you, we wish nothing more than to bring a swift end to this..” He glanced aside. “Senseless war.”

NH-01987 hadn’t been briefed by the Chancellor on what they’d be accomplishing today, so the news was just as surprising to him as it was to those in chamber. However, King Regis didn’t seem to be buying the offer so easily; his gaze still set sternly on Ardyn.

“Is that so?” He queried, his tone even and lacking belief.

“It is indeed, and we require but a singular compliance.” Ardyn continued to approach the King. “To save your grand Insomnia here, Lucis must forfeit all territories to Niflheim rule.” As if expecting a protest to break out from the Council members, Regis raised a hand, his gaze ever-watching as Ardyn spun on his heel.

“Ah, Insomnia, jewel in the crown of the Lucian Kingdom. How foolish of me to forget, there is just one more _trivial_ thing.” He returned to face the King, face a mask of diplomacy. NH-01987 could see that was exactly what it was; nothing but a mask. No different to the one he wore right now, watching the two. “It concerns your son.”

“The fetching Prince Noctis of Lucis, and the fair Princess Lunafreya of Tenebrae…” He began to saunter his way across the steps, turning his attention to the King once more. Bringing two fingers together, he finished what he had started. “They are to be wed.”

That certainly brought King Regis to lean forward in his chair, his gaze hardening.

“You seem vexed, your Highness. I assure you, the Princess still holds you in the highest regard, as she has done all these _twelve long years_.” Ardyn concluded his speech, and silence fell across the chamber once more. King Regis took a moment to recover his expression before leaning back in the throne.

“The Council shall discuss this… offer. You will be required to reside within the Citadel over the coming days until we reach a decision.” Came the eventual reply from the King. His gaze was stern, and expression no longer contained the brimming emotions from before; however, it did flicker across to NH-01987 and seemed to regard him for a moment. He did his best to keep still under the Kings stare, refusing the urge to look away or to squirm awkwardly- again, was this a glitch in his programming? The actions were those that would get him de-commissioned if noticed. It was a stark difference: what the King likely saw versus what he actually was.

To an outsider, a Magitek Unit stood in the centre of that chamber a few short paces behind the Chancellor. Dressed in fine armour that was more befitting of a Commander than a machine, his stance was emotionless and attentive – ready to receive orders at any given moment. Not once had he moved during Ardyn’s act, nor had he spoken out. He was here to observe.

But to NH-01987, things couldn’t have been more different. The fine armour that he wore only weighed him down and ached his limbs, the stance was by no means emotionless; holding hidden out-of-place feelings. He wasn’t ready for orders, he could barely get his mind to grasp what had just been said. He wasn’t sure why he was here.

“Oh, but of course. I would expect nothing less.” Ardyn purred, glancing back at NH-01987 briefly, before returning his gaze to the King. “Shall we discuss in further detail then?”

And with that, NH-01987 was finally ushered out of the room by a rather timid looking Crownsguard. 

The hall outside the chamber was grand indeed. Large paintings covered the walls, and NH-01987 slowly made his way across the marble floor to examine one of them. If his knowledge bank served him well, then the painting depicted the Astrals; in all their might. He could name most of them, though perhaps other areas of his memory were faulty- as it was difficult to recall all. Even as he stepped forward to study the art, he could see each and every tiny detail where eons ago brush had struck canvas, shaping paint into the wonderful sight that now stood before him. Asides from the company of the paintings, the room was empty; that alone surprised him – surely they weren’t about to leave an MT unit unattended in the middle of the Citadel? Which, led him to believe he was likely being watched after all. Not that he minded, he didn’t have any orders that threatened the Lucians; and was more than happy to spend his time gracing his eye with the artwork in front of him.

He couldn’t recall the day he had been activated. There were bits of memory about when he’d been smaller- perhaps these memories had been implanted in him to give him that extra humanistic feel? He wasn’t sure. He _definitely wasn’t_ human. He could still bring up memories of the lab, the training, the constant battle to be the top of the class. How his eyes shone with an unnatural crimson light, how his-…

A movement caught his attention as two others stepped into the room; startling him. He turned on his heel and resumed the usual mechanical stance.

“An envoy of Niflheim?” The younger male questioned. His hair was dark and unkempt, with a tired gaze peeking out from underneath it. Judging by height, NH-01987 guessed he was around twenty years old, and was followed by a slightly taller male with glasses; who responded to the question.

“It would appear they’re seeking to strike a deal. As such, I wouldn’t suggest disturbing your Father now.”

Father? Then that meant the younger one was Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum. NH-01987 let his gaze wander to the Prince from beneath his helmet, watching as the raven-haired male paused just outside of the large two doors and sighed.

“Guess I’ll just have to wait then.” Noctis groaned, rather abruptly leaning back against the wall; before his gaze finally fell on the Unit. There was a pause. “Is that a…” He started.

“Indeed, one of Niflheim’s Magitek Units- though I daresay I haven’t quite seen such an... ornamented model before.” A hand rose to push glasses up the bridge of his nose, and the tall male let his gaze bear down on NH-01987 for a moment.

Involuntarily, NH-01987 glanced away for a moment. The mechanical sound his movement made was more than audible in such a quiet room. Keep it cool, keep it cool. Don’t attract too much attention.

“Nothing but a fancy bucket of bolts.” Came the rather bored sounding reply of the Prince, shrugging it off. His gaze however didn’t leave NH-01987, as if searching for something. Rather abruptly, he stood before crossing the distance between them, and it took all of NH-01987’s programming to avoid stepping back in surprise. Why was the Prince of Lucis so interested in him? Was it the armour? Even he had deduced that it was too flashy. Noctis stopped just short of him, despite Glasses’ sudden protests.

“Noctis! For Six sake, what are you doing?”

“Chill, it’s not like it’s going to attack me in the middle of the Citadel.”

Well, that was probably the stupidest thing NH-01987 had ever recorded. He could quite easily break the Prince’s neck if he’d been ordered to do so.

“Honestly, your recklessness is going to get you killed one day. Be glad that it clearly doesn’t have orders.” Glasses frowned.

Well, it was nice to see one of the two had sense.

“It’s pretty short for an MT, isn’t it?” Noctis entirely disregarded what Glasses had said, already off on a new train of thought.

“What?”

“It’s short.”

“Noct I don’t think its height is really-“

“What? I just think it’s odd. Envoy of Niflheim brings a half-size MT along with them?”

Suddenly NH-01987 was _wishing_ he had orders to hit the Prince. He was a _standard_ size. Still, the Prince continued to stare at him; an action that was making him feel increasingly more and more uncomfortable. Despite all his better judgements, NH-01987 swiftly moved, turning to face the painting behind him rather than the irritating Prince ahead.

“Did it just-..” Noctis started, sounding more than a bit confused.

“I..” Glasses paused. “I believe it just turned its back on you, yes.”

Disbelief seemed to hang in the air for a moment; though NH-01987 refused to turn around and fixed his sights firmly on the artwork in front of him. Besides, if Ardyn returned and saw him stood with the Prince; he didn’t want to think of the consequences for that. His orders had been-.. Well, he wasn’t sure what his orders were. But they definitely didn’t involve talking with the enemy.

“Perhaps you hurt its feelings.” Glasses commented, though there was amusement behind his tone.

“Yeah, right, ‘cause those things can think.” Noctis remarked sarcastically, before both of them left the room; lost in chatter then eventually died out altogether.

Little did NH-01987 know, he was going to be bumping into that obnoxious Prince a lot more over the coming days.


	2. Observation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second time NH-01987 (MT!Prompto) came in contact with the Prince, he didn't expect what came next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah! Talk about some awesome feedback guys! I didn't think this story would be such a hit; considering I wrote it at 3am dosed with painkillers. xD  
> Okay, so, here's the next chapter! Tell me what you think; and keep those guesses coming! A few of you are picking up on small hints I keep leaving around the story :D

“I _suppose_ you’ll be wanting to know your orders, hm?”

The evening had passed by at a steady rate, before Ardyn had returned to collect him. Surrounded by guards, they’d been marched through the halls to the guest wing of the Citadel. NH-01987 followed behind obediently; his metallic steps resounding heavily throughout the marble corridors, causing several servants to stop and turn their gaze to him as the group passed. It wasn’t until the pair were stood in the Chancellors temporary quarters that he’d spoken the question that had been on NH-01987’s mind since they’d arrived. His tone was slick with amusement, but not in the cheerful way. No, slick with grotesque amusement that he was aware of exactly what was going through the MT unit’s mind, what was _bugging_ him. The smirk that played on the man’s lips was disturbing, and NH-01987 averted his gaze to study another painting in the corner of the room.

Ardyn Izunia slipped his oversized coat free from his shoulders, draping it over a nearby chair before placing his hat atop it. In the dim light of the room, his amber eyes seemed to shine with a new emotion; scrutiny.

He was clearly still awaiting an answer, NH-01987 realised, and he provided a rather curt and mechanical nod as a response. Words were useless when you were a machine. His job was to follow, not to express. The moment they had entered the room, NH-01987 had positioned himself aside the door; back straight and arms tucked neatly under his cloak. The perfect stance of obedience that had been drilled in to him ever since he’d been a-.. A what? Young program?

Ardyn crossed the room in a swayed stride, closing the distance between them in seconds before reaching a gloved and slender hand out to trail along the lower metallic line of his helmets jaw.

He wanted to step away. He didn’t.

The same smirk still sat on the Chancellor’s lips as he observed him, seemingly waiting for a reaction that wasn’t occurring. “My dear NH, it is your job to observe the young Prince. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Observe the Prince? What goal could that possibly achieve in the Empires benefit? He was a unit that had commanded troops, had charged into battlefields guns-blazing, and now the Chancellor himself wanted him to what, babysit? That didn’t add up.

Perhaps Ardyn was aware of his sudden confusion – although Eos knew how – because the Chancellor withdrew his hand and stepped back, a low chuckle leaving his lips.

“You seem perplexed. Tell me, can MTs _feel_ perplexed?” He chimed.

No. No they couldn’t, NH-01987 thought. If Ardyn Izunia saw through his confusion so easily; what was preventing the Chancellor from simply having him decommissioned for a more functioning model?

Ardyn finally stepped away and NH-01987 would have felt relieved; if not for the fear of being spotted. His knees felt ready to buckle under the weight of his armour, a weight that was only just apparent now. He was sure there was an unsteady shake to his hands; loose circuit, perhaps. The Chancellor didn’t seem to notice as he crossed the room to the entrance of the king-size bedroom that followed, the furniture in question had been draped with the most lavish of silks.

He felt that same sick feeling rise in his stomach as before. The Chancellor was toying with him; and he couldn’t work out to what end. 

“Tomorrow morning, I shall be summoned to the audience chamber once more, to speak with King Regis. Do me a favour and take the time to _relax_ , won’t you?” Ardyn glanced back at him. “No doubt you’ll be followed by the guard, so do be on your best behaviour.”

He paused.

“Just one small, tiny little detail. You are the Chancellor’s unit, not Ardyn’s, not Ardyn Izunia’s, am I understood?”

 _What?_

And with that, the Chancellor made his way to bed. Leaving NH-01987 to stand watch over the main door in the communal room in confusion.

MT units didn’t need sleep. Or at least, not on the same level that humans did. Sleep provided a chance to sift through memory data; though his had always been spontaneous and random, leaving him with no control over the images that flooded his mind. Thus, more often than not NH-01987 avoided sleeping in fear of being caught in one of those glitches. So there he stood, perfectly still like a statue across from the door, with one hand resting gently against where his gun should have been.

 

\---

 

Morning had come, and Ardyn had been escorted away as promised. With his orders clear, though not entirely understood, NH-01987 had taken it upon himself to learn the layout of the Citadel; or at least of the areas he was permitted access whilst under the constant watch of the rather fed-up looking Kingsglaive behind him. The man was far taller than he was, and wore his hair back in braids, leaving NH-01987 to wonder if that was a custom of the land he’d come from. It was common knowledge that those who served in the Kingsglaive weren’t all of Insomnian birth. He walked with a gait and sense of duty that NH-01987 admired in him, though the Glaive avoided eye contact almost entirely; which wasn’t hard to do, considering his helmet. He didn’t seem impressed that he’d been charged with accompanying the MT on his wander around the Citadel, not in the slightest.

He’d heard the other guards refer to him by name: Nyx Ulric. Something NH-01987 decided to store in his memory should it ever serve a purpose.

The two of them walked in silence along one of the lower corridors; though there was definitely an unspoken question as to _why_ an MT felt the need to take a _walk_ hanging in the air between them.

Because I have orders, NH-01987 reminded himself.

He paused by one of the paintings; almost causing the Glaive to walk straight into him. It was a magnificent piece that had been mounted above a dark blue sofa, depicting a younger version of King Regis smiling down at his son; who sat just opposite him in the painting. That parental bond was something NH-01987 didn’t entirely understand; the need to protect something so small and fragile, like that. Yet still, it invited a new emotion – new programming – into his mind, something warm and reminiscent.

Nyx seemed to notice the MTs gaze, and followed it to look up at the painting.

“Painted just before the Prince’s eighth birthday; before Niflheim’s attack.” He spoke sourly, but evenly.

Niflheim’s attack? It took NH-01987 a moment to recall which attack in question he was referring to. 

Ah, right. Niflheim had managed to release a Maralith Daemon onto Prince Noctis’ escort, killing nearly every guard that had tried to stand in its way. The Daemon had not been defeated, and had been recovered by the Empire a short time later. Although it hadn’t completed its intended use of killing the Prince, it had severely injured him – though to what extent, NH-01987 wasn’t sure, for the male had seemed absolutely fine the day prior when he’d been _commenting_ on his height.

He took a moment to admire the innocent expression in the boy’s face, before moving on down the hallway.

It was then that the familiar clash of blade-on-blade caught his attention, and he slowed as he reached two open doors.

Through them he could see what appeared to be a practice area beyond; dusted with sand and open to the sun streaming down from above. They were on the lower floors, so such architecture was to be expected, yet the rays still surprised him at their intensity. He barely noticed that Nyx was following a little _too_ closely as he found himself wandering inside; squinting under his helmet at the uncomfortable feeling the sun formed in him. He could thank Daemon blood for that. Not enough to disintegrate, but enough to feel the effects regardless. It was worse without the armour; but still not unbearable.

Not that he regularly wandered around without the metallic suit; either this one, or one of the more standard issue varieties.

The blades clashed again.

Two combatants were sparring in the centre of the training sand. One, a large man laden with muscles and sweat; the upper half of his body tattooed with the graceful and dark outline of a bird. It didn’t seem to faze the man that he was fighting with blades, entirely unprotected. In both hands, he gripped a large greatsword, currently resting it against the sand. His breath was even, despite the sweat rolling down his skin, as he stared down his opponent.

And with a sinking feeling, NH-01987 realised just why Nyx was suddenly so close to him. The large man’s opponent was none other than Crown Prince Noctis, dressed in no more than a tight black shirt and loose training pants. He too was sweating against the excursion of the battle, with a single one handed sword in his grasp as he began to back away from the big guy, creating a large amount of distance between them.

Noctis raised the blade into the air…

And _threw_ it.

What happened next was something NH-01987 was sure wasn’t going to leave his memory banks for a very long time.

The moment the blade had left the Prince’s hand, crackles of blue and white crystallised light began to form around it, and around the Prince himself. It was barely a millisecond before he shone all over with that light, a light that stung at NH-10987’s eyes, before vanishing entirely. His grip resumed on the blade as he re-appeared across the room mere inches from the big guy, twisting his body before bringing the weapon down in a swift and steep arch on him.

Apparently, this move had been expected, as the big guy wasted no time in raising his own greatsword once the Prince had disappeared from sight; as such, blade parried blade before he managed to overpower the younger combatant, throwing him down hard into the sand below. The one-handed sword skidded across the arena, throwing up a small cloud of dust and blue particles in its wake.

NH-01987 was rather glad he was wearing a helmet; for he was near certain his mouth was hanging open in absolute disbelief at what he’d just witnessed.

Both blades disappeared in a fizzle of blue light, before the big guy lent down to offer the Prince a hand.

“Nice throw. Almost had me.” He commented, a smug grin on his expression regardless.

Noctis accepted the hand, tugging himself to his feet before taking a step back and brushing the dust from his attire. “Yeah, right.” He murmured, clearly unconvinced.

“Lighten up, kid. Now, agai-“ The big guy paused, turning to see NH-01987 and Nyx stood in the doorway. “Damn, they got a Glaive to babysit an MT unit? Funny looking MT at that.”

Why was _everyone_ so concerned with his appearance?

Nyx scoffed, before remembering himself and letting the previous dutiful expression fall back onto his face.

Noctis followed the big guy’s gaze, resting his own on NH-01987. “Oh, that thing. It was hanging around outside the audience chamber. Think it’s the envoys unit.”

They were practically talking about him as if he _wasn’t_ in the room. Sure, he was a machine, but that didn’t mean he appreciated the lack of consideration here. He needed to do something, _anything_ other than stand there like a clueless piece of tech; unfortunately the best idea that sprang to mind in hindsight was far from the most appropriate. He didn’t give either of the two a chance to continue the conversation, tucking one metallic arm under his chest before bowing.

He’d just bowed to the Crown Prince of Lucis. 

After the comments the obnoxious Prince had teased him with the previous day, there was a victorious feeling in the back of his mind seeing the Prince do a double take in surprise. 

There was a brief pause of silence before the larger guy let out a laugh, clapping the young Prince on the back. “Hell, it’s got more manners than you do, kid!”

“Shut up Gladio” Noctis scowled, just about recovering from his previous shock.

Gladio, that was the other man’s name. If NH-01987 recalled correctly, Gladiolus Amicitia was the current shield-in-training to the Prince of Lucis; eldest son of the current Shield to the King, Clarus Amicitia. The Shield laughed at the Prince’s scowl, stepping forward to cast his gaze over NH-01987; again, the MT felt like shrinking in his armour at being observed so closely. It was just as uncomfortable as when the Chancellor did it. Finally, Gladio’s gaze rested on the empty holster where his gun had been but a day prior, a small grunt of acknowledgement sounding from his throat.

“You fight?” He questioned, folding his arms over his chest. Clearly, unlike the Prince, he had already realised that NH-01987 could understand them.

NH-01987 nodded.

“Fancy teaching his royal laziness here a valuable lesson, then?” 

Again, thank the Six for the helmet. He was practically gawking at the suggestion of such a thing. Niflheim’s MT sparring against the Crown Prince of Lucis? What if he messed up and caused some kind of international incident? Hell, he’d be decommissioned faster than anyone could say _inadequate_. Yet… at the same time he couldn’t help but recall the Chancellor’s words. His orders were to observe the Prince; and surely what better way to do so than to observe his fighting prowess first hand? A report like that could even earn him enough gil for a slightly less ridiculous looking set of armour. His hesitation seemed to be noted, or perhaps Gladio put it down to not being heard, as the Shield spoke once more.

“We’ll stick to training weapons, of course. Wouldn’t want Nyx here to be re-stationed to the gates.”

“Wouldn’t be worse than this.” Nyx commented, earning a laugh from Gladio. 

Noctis on the other hand, looked less than appealed by the idea. There he stood, still in the middle of the training arena, with his arms folded and gaze cast off to the side in irritation. He was purposely avoiding looking at the trio up ahead, fixing his sights firmly on a discarded training sword.

Finally, NH-01987 nodded a second time, in agreement to the suggestion.

“You’re a sniper unit, right? What’s that, gun and short sword?” Gladio questioned.

Another nod.

NH-01987 had been trained in a variety of weapons since his initial establishment; though he’d taken a keen liking to pistols and rifles, being one of the best shots in the Infantry. That didn’t however mean he couldn’t swing a sword and thus his weapons _usually_ consisted of both; though he preferred to only use a blade in close combat situations where a gun would risk his own safety. There had been a few occasions where the recoil from a rifle had sent him tripping backwards over his own two feet, especially if it involved being at point-blanc range from the enemy. His supervisors had demanded that he utilise a blade more often; or face decommission for inadequate weapons handling.

Gladio had stepped away for a moment whilst NH-01987 had been caught up in his own thoughts. When he returned, he was holding out both a training gun – with hefty, but non-penetrative blanks – and a training sword. NH-10987 took both with a small nod, biting down on his lip underneath his helmet at the realisation of what he was getting himself in to.

“Noct! If you manage to beat this MT here, you can have the rest of the day off.” Gladio grinned; a rather shit-eating grin at that. He didn’t expect the Prince to win, it seemed.

Regardless, the prospect of a day off seemed to intrigue the young man more than NH-01987 would have expected, his gaze immediately on Gladio as if challenging him to take that bet back. 

He didn’t.

Noctis smirked.

One thing NH-01987 couldn’t quite fathom was how anyone expected an un-armoured, tired Prince to win against a fully armoured MT unit. 

Despite his concerns, NH-01987 found himself making his way to stand opposite the Crown Prince in the sand. He slipped the sword into an empty socket on his belt; where his old blade had been before their departure to Lucis. He hadn’t brought the weapon, knowing full well it would be taken away, but he’d also been unable to part himself with his gun. Settling the training gun in his gloved hands, he let his fingers brush against the trigger; a familiar sense of concentration overcoming him as he eyed his opponent.

“You fight until one of you has given up! Don’t go breaking any bones-..” A pause. “Or er, circuits, for that matter.” Gladio quickly corrected, shrugging at his blunder. He eyed them both as they readied themselves before continuing.

“Start in three!”

“Two”

“One”

“NOW!”

And the moment that word had left the Shield’s mouth, Noctis was gone in a flash of crystallised light. NH-01987 barely had a moment to register the Prince’s sudden disappearance before a woosh of air behind him had him turning on his footing. His actions were entirely program-driven – one could even argue instinctual – and he let his mind remain a blank slate, allowing his body to do the work for him. The instant he turned, he was face to face with the Prince’s oncoming blade; the young man in question bringing it down on him hard. However, his perception had given him the advantage as he stepped backwards and out of range of the weapon; hearing it crash against the dust. He’d have revelled in that small victory, but his programming said otherwise; allowing him to raise the training gun and shoot forward at the Prince.

The bullet didn’t connect, for in a similar manner to the teleportation ability, the Prince merely phased slightly to the right and let the bullet fire through a mist of blue shining particles. Swinging his blade once more, he failed to land a second hit on NH-01987; who continued to back up whilst analysing the Prince’s skills. In particular, he noted, the Prince had to focus on _where_ he wanted to teleport a moment before he did so; and this gave the MT a huge advantage over a previously un-winnable situation. 

Sure enough, it didn’t take Noctis long to retreat back to the first tactic- seeking a vantage point to attack from; gaze very briefly trained on a pillar not too far away. There was a familiar crackle of air as the Prince disappeared from sight once more.

 

However, this time he was about to be in for a shock.

NH-01987 aimed the gun up at the pillar, judging the distance between where the Prince had just vanished and counting down quickly in his head. The teleportation was near instant; but there was a 0.147455 second delay between the two actions; meaning as he pulled down the trigger and fired off the bullet, there was a rather surprised swear as the Prince was knocked free from the blade he’d been grasping – crashing down to the ground below. A fall like that had to hurt; and NH-01987 couldn’t help but feel a brief pang of guilt for causing it- and the frantic worry that he really _could_ end up accidentally killing the Crown Prince of Lucis.

Nyx made a movement to step forward, only to be held back as Gladio held out an arm and shook his head; the same grin on his expression as Noctis pulled himself to his feet, spitting dirt and sand aside as he glared down the MT unit.  
“Lucky shot.” He remarked, a sour expression on his face as he threw the blade forward once more- apparently deciding that close range combat would suit him better than attempting to teleport out of the fray again.

The movement was actually unexpected, leaving NH-01987 to drop the gun in favour of drawing the sword; parrying the strike from the Prince as he re-appeared above him; having to dig his heels into the dirt below to avoid being toppled over by the sudden onslaught. There was a surprising amount of force behind the attack, eventually causing one of his knees to buckle; leaving the unit knelt against the ground in the split second it took for their weapons to connect.

Noctis seemed to see this as an opportunity, drawing the weapon back before aiming it forward into NH-01987’s side. The blow was enough to knock him backwards, but he regained his footing with a renewed need to avoid looking like a fool. If machines could look like fools, he supposed.

The fight drew on well over thirty minutes; swords constantly parrying yet neither of the combatants were able to land sufficient hits on one another. Apparently the teleporting had its limits, because as the fight continued Noctis began to rely on it less and less; his strength weakening beneath each attempt at an attack.

Finally, the two of them were left looking rather exhausted at opposite ends of the arena. Even NH-01987 had to admit, his own programming hadn’t taken into consideration the absolute beating he was taking; meaning even he felt an unusual presence of exhaustion. Noctis was stood opposite him, both hands on his knees – with one still gripping the training sword – as he huffed and puffed; breathing ragged from exertion. 

“Not bad..” He coughed. “For a _short_ bucket of bolts.” And there it was, the smirk that NH-01987 really wanted to wipe off of the Prince’s face.

“Alright, alright.” Gladio concluded, clapping his hands together and stepping away from where he and Nyx had been watching. “I think that’s enough, this fight isn’t going to get anywhere if the two of you collapse from exhaustion.” He didn’t seem to mention that he doubted MTs could even do that; something NH-01987 was glad for.

NH-01987 offered both training weapons back to Gladio as he approached, who nodded down at him as he retrieved them. There was something odd on his expression, as if he was trying to read something behind NH-01987’s helmet, whatever it was, he didn’t comment on it as he retrieved Noctis’ training sword as well.

As NH-01987 raised his gaze, he became aware that a fourth person now stood in the room; leaning against the doorway. He couldn’t read the males expression, but Glasses was clearly looking straight at him; a frown on his lips.

It was then that he considered just how late the hour was getting; chances are Chancellor Izunia had finished his meeting with the King by now. Raising himself to his full, and apparently short, height, NH-01987 nodded the group a farewell; before departing from the room with Nyx Ulric in tow. Even the Glaive seemed impressed by the battle that had just taken place, as he glanced aside at NH-01987 and regarded him briefly. “Smart moves back there.” He commented, before they walked the rest of the way in silence.

 

\---

 

“And just _what_ were you thinking letting Noctis spar an MT of all things?” Ignis scowled, now left alone with Gladio and Noctis; the former of which still held a smirk as he watched the retreating back of the MT making its way down the corridor.

Gladio shrugged. “What can I say, kid needed the experience against an actual enemy. Though… Can’t say I expected it to be so lifelike in its movements.”

“The way it anticipated that warp…” Ignis mulled, apparently forgetting his brief bit of anger.

Noctis frowned. “What does it matter, it’s probably got some high tech programming; you’ve seen the armour on that thing.” Though, even his tone seemed to be lined with doubt. They’d seen MTs in the past with Niflheim envoys; the machines were lifeless and clunky. What he’d just fought… had been something else entirely.

“Perhaps. It’s not entirely out of the range of possibilities. But still, I’d be quite interested in knowing where the Chancellor acquired such a model. For now though.. Noct, it’s about time we returned to your apartment. You have reports to read through.”

The Prince’s face seemed to fall at the prospect; leaving him groaning. “Yeah, right, _those._ ” His mind was still reeling from the fight; from the way the MT had actually _bowed_ to him as if to prove a point that it had been listening the entire time; the way it had turned its back on him the day before when he remarked on its size- which in all honesty, was the same height as he was.

Something didn’t add up, and he found himself determined to find out what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of clarifications! 
> 
> 1\. NH-01987 is the number imprinted on Prompto's arm ingame, and hence that's why I'm using it as his name :')  
> 2\. I chose to include Nyx because he's adorable.
> 
> That's all <3


	3. The Griffon of Niflheim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further revelations of NH-01987 (MT!Prompto) only leaves Noctis with more questions than he'd started with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohgod I'm loving the feedback and guessing games going on :')  
> Here's the new chapter!

By the fourth day, negotiations of the peace treaty were advancing on schedule; leaving two days until the Chancellor was to return to Niflheim with King Regis’ decision – not that there was much deciding to be done in a hostile takeover. Once again, NH-01987 found himself with little more to do than wander the Citadel whilst Ardyn was in talks with the Council. It was today that his exploration of had finally become fruitful; for the MT now stood in the most jaw-droppingly beautiful garden he had ever seen. 

The sun shone just as brightly as always; perhaps even more so as its rays were dappled with the Crystals light. It cascaded down on the small gardens on the outskirts of the Citadel building; bringing vibrant colours even more-so to life in the plants and bushes. Nyx Ulric accompanied him as usual, stood a short distance away in the shade; his gaze never leaving him, though it did lack the pure distaste from the first day. In fact, it had lacked such after watching him fight; perhaps the act had left the Kingsglaive with an odd sense of respect for him? That didn’t make much sense. He was a machine, regardless of how well had fought.

NH-01987 continued to mull the prospect over as he continued his way through the gardens, taking care not to disturb the wildlife with the heavy steps of his boots as he walked. The heat was positively sweltering him under his armour, a feeling that was rather foreign to him. Gralea was by no means a terrible place in terms of weather, but there was something different about the sun there. It felt… cold in comparison to the rays that current shone down on him here through the Crystal’s defences.

It was so different in fact, that by impulse he raised a hand to his helmet, beginning to slide it free from-…

A noise above him stopped the movement. The sound of… Music?

NH-01987 released his grasp from his helmet; not noticing how Nyx had trained his sights on him in curiosity. He looked up above him at the dense branches of an oak that swayed in the breeze over his head, only to spot the source of the odd music.

Hidden up amongst the foliage, Prince Noctis tapped his finger against the screen of his phone; the source of the previous odd music. He was sprawled out on a branch, led on his back, and apparently hadn’t yet noticed the MT below him. Hell, he’d been so well hidden that even Nyx hadn’t noticed him apparently; for the Kingsglaive only now stepped forward to keep himself within striking distance of NH-01987. Whatever the Prince was doing on his phone, it had entirely taken up his concentration as he continued to tap it. There was a small scowl of irritation on his lips, his brow furrowed slightly as he focused. In all honesty, the MT found it rather amusing to watch.

He was aware that the Prince no longer lived at the Citadel; but apparently, that didn’t stop him from spending a decent amount of time there. Either that, or he supposed he could easily be skipping some form of lesson considering how well hidden he currently was.

Apparently, it was the latter, as Nyx made a point of cracking a branch under his feet as he approached.

“I believe Ignis has been looking for you, Prince Noctis.” Nyx remarked, a strange amount of formality in his tone in comparison to the previous day.

Noctis barely spared a glance down at Nyx, tapping the screen a few more times before finally tearing his gaze from it. Even then, it settled on NH-01987 rather than the Kingsglaive.

“Then you didn’t see me.” He shrugged lazily and waved a hand dismissively in the air, though didn’t break eye-to-helmet contact with the MT.

A sigh left Nyx’s lips and an inaudible mutter. Still, there was a slight smirk on his expression as he stepped away once more; but remained ever still in reach of warping and taking the MT down.

The Prince was still staring at him.

Music continued to blare from his phone; something that was intriguing the MT far more than it should have been.

A moment passed before the Prince swung his legs over the branch of the tree and dropped expertly down onto the grass below; leaving NH-01987 to wonder just how many times he’d climbed that tree to make such an easy descent. 

He shoved one hand into the pocket of his trousers, eyeing over NH-01987 before finally speaking; a loose and lazy smirk to his lips as he glanced between the MT and the phone in his hand. “What, they don’t give you Kings Knight in MT school?”

Kings _what?_

Noctis seemed to notice the confusion, or perhaps the silence was merely too awkward, as he continued to point a finger at his phone.

“The game.”

More silence.

“Not much of a talker, huh.” He shrugged, before moving to sit himself down under the tree in that same lazy, aloof fashion. NH-01987 just stood there awkwardly, trying to work out why the Prince was even trying to hold a conversation with him. He also couldn’t quite tell if he was being taunted, or if the Prince just _really_ sucked at being polite. 

It wasn’t like NH-01987 had much practice talking with anyone – more often than not he was simply used to following orders; which ordinarily there was no room to question them. Besides, traditional MT units were further gone than he was in terms of programming and didn’t exactly provide riveting conversation. In all honesty, NH-01987 couldn’t quite recall what his voice commands even sounded like, it had been so long since he’d last used them.

Noctis was still staring rather pointedly at him; one eyebrow raised very slightly.

A moment of silence drew out before finally: “You going to sit, or what? I don’t fancy showing you this while you’re all stood up and imposing like that. Besides, Nyx over there’ll have a heart attack if you look any more threatening.”

Oh.

Rather awkwardly, NH-01987 sat himself down against the ground; feeling a flush of embarrassment underneath his helmet. His armour clinked together as metal rubbed against metal, but he was rather relieved that the majority of it, save for the shoulder-piece and helmet, was fairly light weight. Why was the Prince of Lucis even bothering with him? It certainly allowed the MT to complete his orders from the Chancellor with ease; but surely conversing with the enemy was bordering on treason?

It left him feeling _incredibly_ uncomfortable but Noctis didn’t seem to notice, already holding the phone out between the two of them; the screen alight with bright cartoon-like colours and happy music. The Prince still held the bored expression on his face; yet occasionally spared a glance up at him that seemed to border on curiosity before he hid it again.

“So imagine it’s like a story.” What, like for _children?_

“You have to rescue a Princess, and level up a character to do it.” Yep, for _children._

Noctis pointed to the small blue character in the centre of the screen. “You move him like this…” He tapped the screen a couple of times. “Try it.”

Was he serious? 

A quick glance across at the Prince sat next to him answered that; there wasn’t even the hint of a joke in his expression.

With resignation, NH-01987 moved to slip his metallic plate free from his hand. There was still a fabric glove underneath, made of dark black silk; it covered his hand entirely- but it was tight fitting and his slender bone structure beneath was more than visible by now. Nodding slightly, NH-01987 took the phone from Noctis grasp before tapping gently against the screen; watching as the small blue character moved forward.

He glanced to Noctis; expecting the next instruction, only to find the Prince frowning slightly at the MTs hand. Had he done something wrong?

The moment Noctis noticed he’d been caught in that frown, his expression fell back to the usual lazy neutrality and he nodded. “See, wasn’t so hard. Now… Open the menu.” 

His jaw was slightly set more than usual, but NH-01987 decided to pay it little heed; he didn’t want to distract himself from the moment. Turning his gaze back to the phone, he listened as the Prince continued to explain the game.

And it was just like that, that the two of them spent the rest of the afternoon with Noctis explaining the games mechanics and encouraging NH-01987 to begin the story quest. Despite his initial thoughts that the game had seemed childish, he found himself fully immersed in the story. The two of them continued to sit side by side, backs up against the tree and knees slightly bent up to their chests. Prince Noctis didn’t even seem to care about the lack of space between himself and a MT unit of Niflheim; constantly leaning over to give him instructions or to help him remember where the potions menu was.

NH-01987 was so caught up in the game that he barely noticed as the sky began to take on an orange hue above the two of them; the sun beginning to duck behind some of the city’s highest skyscrapers.

By the time Prince Noctis’ phone began to run low on battery, the screen read an alarming number of 18:32pm. 

NH-10987 finished off the last boss, collecting the reward with a sense of triumph before finally passing the device back to Noctis; who accepted it. There was that same smirk on the Prince’s lips.

“Not bad, for a _machine._ ” Noctis mused. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, not by a long shot. NH-01987 wasn’t entirely sure what his tone was implying; that machines weren’t supposed to be good at video games?

NH-01987 merely shrugged in response.

That earned a laugh from Noctis. “Lighten up. It was a joke.”

A joke? He wasn’t quite sure he understood it.

Silence befell the two of them as NH-01987 turned his gaze up towards the darkening sky. The first few stars were beginning to become visible past the shimmer of the Crystals protection. He couldn’t help but feel relaxed; which seemed like a glitch really, as he stared up at that sky; watching the occasional shooting star streak across the galaxies in a burst of bright fire.

The Prince rose a hand to his lips as he let out a yawn, relaxing back against the tree as he shoved his phone into his pocket.

A few more moments passed in blissful silence before he spoke again:

“What’s your name?”

_Name?_

Behind that helmet of his, NH-01987 was rather taken aback and confused by the question. Did the Prince honestly think he was _human?_ After all, only humans had names. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

He could recall something in his memory banks. A word. A really _old_ word, but… No.

The question seemed to hang in the air for a moment as NH-01987 shifted uncomfortably against the grass under the Prince’s stare. He was waiting for an answer to a question that NH-01987 wasn’t sure he could comply with. Finally, he gestured towards where the Prince had previously pocketed his phone. 

As if catching on to the meaning, Noctis retrieved his phone and passed it over to the MT. NH-01987 had used devices similar the past, and it took a mere moment for him to flick open the notepad app, before typing.

NH-01987 00O6-O204

With that, he passed the phone back; the serial code numbers plain on the screen for the Prince to see.

 

\---

 

Noctis wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d asked for the Units name. Hell, he wasn’t sure what had possessed him to do it in the first place. Ever since the spar on the first day he’d been unable to shake the feeling that something was _off_ about the Chancellor’s personal MT unit; and now here he was after having taught it to play a mobile game. Gladio would have laughed if he’d seen that; he’d never have lived it down. He watched as the unit began to tap something into the notepad app on the screen, averting his gaze lazily back to the sky; though the expression was a complete farce, his mind was reeling with unanswered questions that he didn’t dare ask.

That hand, despite the dark fabric hiding it, had been so lifelike, so _human_. Sure, MT units were designed to be humanoid, but this was taking it a little far. Perhaps he was one of the latest attempts to make an inconspicuous droid that could infiltrate Lucis; perhaps that why it was allowed to spend its time around the Prince instead of actually accompanying the Chancellor. It certainly seemed plausible. Noctis found himself wishing he’d paid more attention to the reports on Niflheims advancement in technology over the years; yet even Ignis seemed perplexed by the MT.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he barely noticed as it tried to hand the phone back to him.

It felt as if there was a lump in his throat as he read the serial number.

What had he been _expecting?_

Nothing but a bunch of numbers and letters that meant near nothing to the Prince. The first two likely stood for Niflheim, but the rest was nothing more than a string of meaningless digits.

“That’s… Not a name.” He frowned, muttering the words more to himself than to the Unit aside him. He hadn’t meant to say them.

The MT stiffened; if that was even possible.

A second passed before it moved to slide its metallic glove back on over its hand, getting up to its feet with a gracelessness that really didn’t fit the whole ‘killer machine’ profile. Stupidly, guilt rose in the pit of his stomach at his slip up of words; but why did it matter? Surely the machine didn’t actually have feelings that words could _hurt_.

If that were true, then why did he feel the need to _apologise?_

The MT took a step away before turning to face the Prince once more, draping one arm under its form before offering a bow. 

It was nothing like the bow from the first day they’d met; it was lacking in the odd sense of mockery and sarcasm. This one was simple, mechanical, and cold.

With that, it turned on its heel before leaving the gardens with Nyx, who offered a brief bow towards the Prince before moving alongside the MT.

Noctis glanced down to the phone in his hand again. The serial code was still up on the screen.

He thought to the afternoon that they’d just spent, playing Kings Knight. It had felt no different to the times where he’d taught Gladio or Ignis to play the game. The Unit really did seem to have enjoyed itself, getting frustrated every time the character onscreen had died, looking relieved when Noctis reached over to apply a resurrection stone before the game could end. _It just didn’t add up._

It was much later into the night by the time Noctis returned to his apartment in the city. He’d managed to hide out at the Citadel in an attempt to skip one of Ignis lectures on the latest disputes between Niflheim and Lucis despite the ongoing talks for a peace treaty. Noctis wasn’t sure what the terms were; as none of the Council members seemed willing to discuss it without the watchful eye of their King, and even Ignis had yet to discover them. Whatever it was, the Prince doubted it would be any good for Lucis and severely hoped that his father didn’t give in to the Empires demands.

Opening his door and stepping inside, he wasn’t surprised to be greeted with the familiar waft of cooking food. Of course Ignis had come back here expecting the Prince to return sometime or later; it was a smart plan. He still wasn’t going to sit through those reports tonight. By the Six, his mind was far too cluttered with thoughts of the MT to actually focus on politics.

“Welcome home.” Ignis nodded, glancing over as Noctis stepped into the living room. He immediately made a bee-line for the couch and threw himself down upon it lazily. He could hear the disappointment in Ignis’ tone and was more than ready to receive the usual lecture about skipping out on his duties. Rolling on to his side, he eyed a group of reports led out on the table; though interestingly enough they weren’t in the usual boring brown files that he had become accustomed to.

“Thought you wanted me to read political reports?” He queried, a small frown beginning to sit on his lips. Hopefully whatever in those files wasn’t even more confusing than politics – he couldn’t take any more lessons on elemancy or the history of the Crystal.

Dishing up the soup into a bowl, Ignis made his way across the room and placed it down aside the reports on the table. “I thought we could perhaps have a look at something different tonight.”

Well, that didn’t sound ominous at all. “Different?” Noctis asked, sitting himself up properly on the sofa as he reached out to one of the files; drawing it closer to him. He’d momentarily forgotten about the prospect of food.

There was a reason these files were unusual.

“Ignis these are-“ He started.

“Redacted files from the Kingsglaive reports, yes.” Ignis confirmed, moving to sit down on the now-vacant part of the sofa aside Noctis. “Whilst you were out I took the time to flick through them, noting any relevant information.”

“Information of what?”

“You wanted to know more about the Chancellor’s MT unit, did you not?”

He did. But he didn’t voice that aloud. Instead, he flicked open the file he’d previously slid towards him and cringed at the photographs.

It was a mission report from only a year or so prior, detailing an attack on the outskirts of Galahad; where Kingsglaive forces often found themselves locked in battle against Niflheim and Tenebrae combined. This was one of those fights. 

Bodies were littered across the dusty ground, along with the remnants of MT armour. The blood that covered those bodies still seemed fresh in the photographs; and the thought honestly turned Noctis’ stomach yet he refused to look away. Stood amongst those bodies, pointing and directing a troop of MT Units was a commander. His armour was decorated in traditional Niflheim white and red, his cloak the colour of spilled wine; the golden outline of a Griffon stitched into it.

“I believe this is our Unit. Notice the pattern on the cloak resembles the same creature that the Envoys Units plate-armour is depicting.” Ignis pointed out, gesturing to the area on the photograph.

Ignis didn’t wait for Noctis to comment, continuing. “The rest of these reports show the same Unit, commanding troops in a variety of attacks across the region over the past five or six years. We can assume that’s how long it has been in operation.”

Noctis couldn’t help but think back to how relaxed the MT had seemed whilst playing Kings Knight; a stark contrast to the bloody massacre it was directing in these photographs.

_I shouldn’t be surprised, really._

He’d been stupid to try and trick himself into thinking the Unit was anything more than following orders; perhaps it had been told to spy on him. That certainly explained it’s eagerness to waste the afternoon playing a video game when the Chancellor was attending important talks. Noctis closed the file with a frown, setting it down on the table before getting to his feet; much to Ignis’ surprise.

Without so much as an explanation, he began to head towards his bedroom.

“Noctis?” Ignis frowned, glancing to the file before back at the retreating form of the Prince.

“Tired. I’ll look at them tomorrow or something.”

“You haven’t eaten-“

“Not hungry.”

With that, he shut the door behind him and secluded himself from his advisors worried gaze. Slipping his hand back into his pocket he stared down at the serial number that was still open on the screen. Tightening his grip around the device until his knuckles whitened, he swore under his breath. He’d been stupid to think anything good could have come out of Niflheim. Absolutely stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooooooh :'D  
> THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GET REAL FOLKS.


	4. Names and Codes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is running out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all the guessing going on still! Here's the next chapter :D  
> I'm happy to say no ones figured stuff out yet- so keep guessing!

On the fifth day, NH-01987 found himself stood outside the Council Chambers for yet another meeting whilst he waited for the Chancellor within. Despite his lack of need for sleep, he certainly had begun to feel fatigued under the light of the Crystal; practically able to hear it humming from where it was kept in the upper floors of the Citadel. It was an uncomfortable ache that he wasn’t able to keep his mind off of; occasionally finding himself trying to stretch a limb out. His armour didn’t do him much good either; although it wasn’t as heavy as combat gear, the multiple pieces of plate and ornamental decorative cloak were beginning to weigh him down. Part of him couldn’t wait for a break to merely be free of the damned stuff; it was suffocating.

In the back of his thought-processes, he was aware that he needed to apologise to the Prince for so suddenly leaving the previous evening. His actions had been glitchy and entirely unnecessary. Of course NH-01987 wasn’t a name; it was a code, the code he went by. So why had he found himself so stricken and upset by those words?:

_That’s… Not a name._

The comment seemed odd; looking back on it now. A name was a label or tag which defined someone’s personality. Yet machines didn’t have personality, they didn’t have names. Not real ones. NH-01987 had gone by a few titles in the past, the most common being the Griffon of Niflheim, or before that he’d been known as Quicksilver for his accuracy with a gun. That name had been a double edged sword however, also used as a term of mockery; where he had been swift with a gun, his performance with a blade was far from adequate. Both of these however were titles given to him by the higher-ups as a code to refer to him by more than a term of endearance. There was another term… But he wasn’t entirely sure where he was recalling it from. It felt familiar, but he couldn’t quite remember it exactly.

Folding his arms across his chest, he took a moment to lean back against the wall behind him in hopes of relieving at least some of the weight currently pulling him down. Nyx Ulric stood as motionless and dutiful as ever on the other side of the room, his hands tucked neatly behind his straightened back. His gaze flickered over to NH-01987 as he watched the MT attempt to relax in its overbearing armour. A smirk touched his lips as he spoke.

“Guessing you’re not a fan of that stuff?” He gestured to the armour as he spoke.

Was it that obvious?

NH-01987 stiffened and stood back up; having not expected the Kingsglaive to comment on his posture. It was hardly fitting to see a Magitek Unit struggling under its own plate. He nearly tripped on his own feet at how swift his correction of posture was.

“Relax, I’m not judging. I’d be dying in it too. Never did understand the Nifs need to show off with such extravagant armour.”

NH-01987 laughed. Actually _laughed_. It was a short sound, lined with a mixture of surprise and amusement at hearing the Kingsglaive, who fought MTs for a living, trying to make small talk with one. The moment he’d let the accidental sound slip, NH-01987 immediately shut up; briefly confused as to whether it had been him or Nyx who had done it; it had been so long since he’d last heard his vocal programs.

Now Nyx was _really_ staring at him. By the Six, the Chancellor was going to kill him for forgetting his role briefly enough to mock his own armour. NH-01987 returned his gaze to the wall on the opposite side of the room, his posture falling habitually back to the previous emotionless stance he’d been locked in.

There was a pause whilst Nyx observed him, before finally speaking again. “You got orders to stay put?”

NH-01987 shook his head. He didn’t; there just wasn’t much else better to do.

“Come on then.” And with that, the Kingsglaive began to move towards the corridor leading away from the audience chamber. When NH-01987 didn’t make an effort to move, he glanced back over his shoulder. “You’re seriously telling me you’d rather sit there aching in that armour, than actually do something about it?”

Do _what_ about it? He wasn’t going to take it off, that was for sure. No one needed to see the mechanical mess underneath.

Nyx was still waiting. “I have to spell it out? Sparring. It’ll stretch those muscles you keep trying to relax against that wall.”

Oh.

The idea did seem appealing, he had to admit. With a brief nod, NH-01987 followed shortly behind the Kingsglaive as he led the way through the maze of corridors to the elevator that descended down the main building. There was something slightly more relaxed in the man’s posture than before; though NH-01987 couldn’t understand why. He was, after all, still escorting a Magitek Unit of the enemy through the Citadel. The two rode the elevator down to the lower levels in relative silence; before stepping out onto the floor that held the training arenas, the same arenas where he had sparred Prince Noctis but a few days prior.

The arena was fairly quiet; with only Gladiolus currently present. Judging by the sheen to his skin and the pace of his breath, he’d been training as the two had come in; his greatsword still gripped heavily in his hands, a rather battered training dummy set up on the other side of the room. Hearing Nyx and the MTs footsteps against the sand, he let the blade drop from his grip and it disappeared in a flash of blue particles. Moving a hand to push loose strands of hair back that had fallen from his tie, he nodded at their approach.

“Well, if it ain’t Bolts.” Seriously? Was that seriously going to be a thing? Sure, he hadn’t exactly given them another title to refer to him by.

“If you’ve come here for a rematch with the Prince, good luck. Seems he’s skipping out on our training today.” Gladiolus laughed, a rather booming sound in the empty hall.

Nyx shrugged, already tugging his jacket free. “Council meetings going on for a lifetime. Figured I’d give it something better to do.”

Gladiolus paused for a moment in his laugh, regarding NH-01987 up and down; much as the MT suspected he would any foe before a fight. Looking for weaknesses, appraising his form, judging him.

“So you figured you’d beat the crap out of it instead?”

NH-01987 was clearly visibly enough taken aback by the lack of confidence there, as Gladiolus immediately raised both arms laughing. “Calm your circuits, I was kidding. Should be fun to watch.”

Nyx was already moving over to the other side of the arena, having discarded his jacket to the side. In his hand was a training replica of a weapon he’d seen all too often in the field; seen all too often being used against him in an attempt to cut him down. A Kukri blade. A brief recollection of memory data reminded him of the battlefields he’d seen with weapons such as that one scattered aside the bodies of their deceased wielders. He mentally shoved the data aside, a scowl briefly touching his expression under the helmet with the queasy feeling in his stomach reminding him just why he hated those battlefields.

NH-01987 rose a hand up to his cloak and unclasped the broach that secured it to his armour. It fell to the dusty ground, the metallic feathers clinking together as dust fell over them. Cloaks were really only used to show off a status – not that he really had one – and provided little to no use in battle. More often than not, a cloak could get snagged whilst in a fight; leading to the wearers untimely demise.

Gladiolus approached him, offering the two training weapons from before: the sword and gun. With a brief nod of appreciation, the MT took both. Slipping the sword into his belt, he held the gun in his right hand.

“First one to concede, avoid any fatal strikes.” The Shield announced before stepping to the side and taking a seat on one of the wooden benches.

Nyx nodded across the arena towards NH-01987 and he returned the gesture. In an instant, the fight had begun.

Nyx wasted no time in crossing the distance between them; his shoes kicking up the dusty ground beneath him. NH-01987 dug his plated boots into the ground and shifted his weight to his legs, more than ready to meet what he expected to be a frontal tackle. Behind his helmet, his gaze narrowed as he counted down the seconds it would take for Nyx to reach him, moving a hand to pull his blade free from the belt as he got close enough and-…

In a flash of blue and white crystallised particles, Nyx Ulric completely disappeared. NH-01987 hadn’t even seen the blade leave the Kingsglaives hand; having been too caught up in parrying what he’d expected to be an impact. It was too late for the MT to turn on his heel to search for where the man had warped to; for two feet collided heavily with his back, knocking him straight down to the dirt. His sword fell from his hand and skidded a short distance across the arena, but NH-01987 managed to keep a firm grip on the gun.

He barely had time to roll over in the dirt before the training Kukri struck the ground where his shoulder had just been; sending a small cloud of dust up into the air. Nyx was crouched over him and that left the Glaive in a vulnerable position – he’d been too enthusiastic to land that hit after knocking the MT down that he hadn’t quite taken in to account NH-01987s better-than-average reflexes.

Raising the gun and pulling the trigger, the blank shot off before striking Nyx in the shoulder; the bullet stunning him long enough for NH-01987 to get to his feet and retrieve the training blade, kicking the Kukri out of reach in the process. Grasping a gloved hand around the hilt, he quickly put some distance between himself and his opponent.

“Guess I got a bit ahead of myself there.” Nyx commented, wiping dust away from his face as he moved to retrieve the training Kukri. “Good reflexes.”

NH-01987 would have returned the compliment; if Nyx hadn’t taken that moment to charge forward once more. This time, the MT watched as he threw the blade. No wonder he hadn’t seen it the first time. Unlike the Prince, who had thrown his forward, Nyx chose to throw his upwards into the air with such a swift movement that it was near impossible to spot. It was a smart move. If his gaze had been entirely trained on Nyx and not his surroundings this time, he’d have missed it. Once the Glaive was close enough, he warped again; only this time NH-01987 was more than ready for what came next.

Immediately he brought his blade up above his head, and felt the sudden impact as Nyx re-appeared; his Kukri against the training sword whilst gravity attempted to overpower the MT; causing the machine to very nearly lose his footing. He wasn’t about to let that happen. Sliding the training sword against the Kukri, he re-directed Nyx’s attack and threw him off to the left, not wasting a moment in grabbing the back of the Glaive’s shirt before throwing him harshly down into the dirt. Once he was down, NH-01987 pressed the training blade against the side of Nyx’ neck. If he even moved, and if this was a real fight, that would be the end.

Or not.

There was a smirk on the Glaive’s lips. And with a sickening realisation, NH-01987 could see why. 

Nyx was only holding one Kukri. He’d started with two.

NH-01987 moved to slide the training blade away, but Nyx had already warped from beneath his stance. There was a woosh of air as a blade whizzed past his face; before flash of blue light had a fist following and rather abruptly NH-01987 was back on the dirt floor where he’d started; hell, the hit had been strong enough to briefly disorientate him.

Unknown to the two combatants, Ignis had chosen this time to enter the training room; making his way over to Gladio and taking a seat aside him. The Shield’s gaze was still firmly locked on the fight ahead, and he glanced only once to the Retainer in greeting.

“Gotta’ say, that thing fights better than any MT unit I’ve seen.” He commented, watching as the unit in question hit the dust under Nyx’ quick attack.

Ignis let out a low hum, moving to push his glasses up his nose. “Quite an enigma, that one. Just why would the Griffon of Niflheim be charged with accompanying the Chancellor on political talks?”

“The what of Niflheim?”

“Griffon. It would appear he is infamous for leading several attacks on the Lucis border these past few years. He’s a Commander of the army.” Ignis clarified.

“Commander, huh? Explains how it can fight. But…” Gladio trailed off, continuing to eye the fight with a narrowed gaze.

“But you are not convinced it is a standard-issue MT.” The advisor finished the sentence for him, leaning forward to rest his cheek against his palm, fingertips brushing the rim of his glasses.

The Shield shrugged. “What can I say, I’m pretty sure it was glaring at me earlier when I made a joke. Name an MT we’ve heard of before that’s able to replicate emotion.”

A sight left Ignis’ lips as he shook his head. “Regardless, I suppose it is not our role to question Niflheims choice of troops. I just wish Noctis hadn’t taken such an interest in it.”

“Where is his Royal Lazyness anyway? Skipped out on training.” Gladio frowned, though that developed into a smirk seeing Nyx very nearly find himself against the dirt a second time; just about avoiding the MT’s strike.

“I’d imagine he’s on his way here now; I called and requested he meet us here.”

“Why?”

“It would appear Niflheim and Lucis have come to agreements on terms, and King Regis has requested his sons presence when the treaty’s terms are announced.”

“Treaty huh, can’t see that one going down well…” Gladio muttered, leaning back against the wall.

The fight was beginning to draw to a conclusion, with both combatants looking completely spent. Once more, it seemed NH-01987 had managed to hold his own against his opponent, though even he had to admit it was a struggle to even consider prolonging the fight any further. He had no energy left in him; likely through a mix of the Crystal’s interference and other exhaustion. Nyx didn’t look much better, leaning against one of the pillars as he panted, raising his gaze over to the MT.

“Call this one a draw, then?”

NH-01987 nodded readily, earning a laugh from the Glaive.

Exhausted, but certainly on decent terms, the two returned to stand before Ignis and Gladio. There was something about the way the two of them were looking at him now that made NH-01987 slightly uncomfortable, and once again he was relieved that his expression was entirely hidden by his helmet. Gladio’s expression seemed to fizzle out to amusement, but the MT couldn’t tell which one had been a mask.

“Good fight. Do me a favour and promise me they don’t make any more MTs like you.” He laughed, getting up before clapping a hand against NH-01987’s back, causing the unit to stumble forward in surprise slightly at the friendly gesture.

Nyx chuckled, too. “Think I prefer the more mindless kind. Easier to kill; no offence.”

NH-01987 shrugged, there wasn’t much offence to be taken there. He was aware he was glitchier and less obedient than the other MT troops.

Ignis still had his gaze set on him; but the unit was doing his best to ignore it. Perhaps the Prince had spoken about his odd behaviour the day before; that was probably enough for the man to think he was faulty.

“You got a name?” Gladio asked, now stood just opposite him with his arms folded over his chest.

_This again?_

NH-01987 was just about to reply when someone else stepped in and saved him the effort.

“NH-01987.” Prince Noctis offered, stepping into the room with a lazy gait and a nod of his head to the group assembled. “It told me yesterday. Not much of a name, if you ask me. More like a code.” His words were cold; but undoubtedly true. Still, the tone in them was unsettling accompanied by the fact the Prince was avoiding looking at him entirely.

Served him right for storming off yesterday, he supposed. Still, he had one evening left in Insomnia and really didn’t want to be on bad terms with the one person who had ever treated him like more than a complying machine.

“Think I prefer Bolts.” Gladio laughed. 

At this, NH-01987 rose both hands into the air before gesturing a large X shape. No way in Eos was he going by the name of Bolts.

Gladio only laughed harder at this, practically holding his sides by now. “Oh damn, you really don’t like it then, huh.”

“It does lack tact, Gladio.” Ignis remarked, shaking his head.

“I don’t know. Think it suits it.” Noctis shrugged, that same cold tone lining his words as he spared a brief glance across at NH-01987. 

If he could have died under that glance, he would have easily. Whatever he had done to annoy the Prince went beyond just irritation; he was looking at him as if he’d kicked a metaphorical puppy.

He felt something twist in his gut, and returned his gaze to the others. They were still taunting him; but the jokes were done entirely in good humour. Ignis practically had his face in his hands at Gladio’s terrible machine puns whilst the Shield continued to try and think up a smart-arse name for NH-01987.

I should say something.

It’s just a name, _right?_

There was a name. A name he hadn’t been referred to since his first missions. And for the first time that week he could actually recall exactly what it had been.

“Prompto.”

A deadly silence suddenly fell over the group as he spoke his name. Gladio even managed to stop himself mid-laugh before staring at the MT as if he’d just sworn. Ignis had raised his gaze from his hands, both eyes wide. Nyx had an eyebrow raised and even Noctis had turned completely to face the unit, disbelief written across his expression. Had they misheard him, or perhaps he hadn’t quite been clear. His voice ached from a lack of use, but it was just as youthful as it had ever been.

“My name. You uh, you wanted one. It’s Prompto.”

More silence.

It was Noctis who finally broke it. “You can talk?” He questioned; or stated, Prompto wasn’t entirely sure which.

Prompto started to reply, before being cut off as one of the Citadel’s servants stood in the doorway to the arena. “The Chancellor requests your presence, Magitek.” Glancing once back to the stunned group, he had no choice but to obey and leave the arena. He retrieved his cloak with Nyx following closely behind, but his brow was furrowed, the Glaive temporarily lost in thought. Obediently, he returned to the Chancellor.

 

\---

 

Noctis watched as NH-01987, no, Prompto left the arena. He was still at a loss for words; he hadn’t expected the unit to speak. Hell, he was near certain that MTs couldn’t speak. There was nothing in the reports about such an advanced model, and Noctis didn’t dare think of the other explanation. It was just a program, just an intelligent program. That’s all it was.

And yet, all his mind could recall was how innocent the MT had looked trying to play a video game on his phone.

“That voice…” Ignis started, staring off in the direction where Prompto had departed. “It sounded so young.”

Gladio had his fist curled at his side; mind already reeling at the possibilities. “It’s just a kid.” Suddenly all those short jokes felt worse; particularly as it suggested the MT was only the same age as the Prince. 

MTs weren’t human.

They just _weren’t._

“Prince Noctis.” Another voice broke through the stern silence, a new servant now stood in the doorway. “King Regis requests an audience.” 

Ignis and Gladio didn’t make an attempt to move, leaving the Prince to sigh and push back the mess of thoughts attacking his head. For now he needed to focus on his duties; as dull and as boring as they were about to be. Besides, the Chancellor and Prompto were due to leave in the morning and he doubted he’d be out of the audience chamber until much later that night. With guilt and an unusual numbness in his stride, the Prince left the arena and headed for the Kings Council Chambers.

 

\---

 

NH-01987 stopped just outside of the Chancellors chambers, raising a hand to knock against the door. He’d re-clasped his cloak to his shoulder and could already feel the uncomfortable weight of the metallic feathers pulling him down. The door ahead was opened by Ardyn himself, who ushered him inside with a smirk across his lips. He practically swayed his way over to the couch before sitting down and regarding the MT before him with an all-knowing gaze. It was a gaze that made NH-01987 feel sick.

“Our business here is concluded, and as such I’d prefer if we got a bit of a head start back to Gralea. Long overdue, don’t you think?”

He wanted to object. His programming said otherwise.

It forced him to nod in agreement.

“There’s a good boy, then. Shall we?” Ardyn was already rising to his feet, retrieving his hat from the chair and setting it atop his head.

_Now?_

“Unless perhaps there is something you have yet to do here? Hm?”

Apologise. He’d not apologised to Noctis for storming off the day before. Again, his programming wouldn’t allow him to admit such a thing to a superior, and instead he found himself leaning forward into a deep bow as Ardyn passed him.

“Gralea awaits, Commander.” He chuckled, running a single digit along the MTs helmet before stepping out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note, Nyx's use of the back-attack is the same one from the movie. :') Its suuuper cool.


	5. Leide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a drastic turn when NH-01987 is deployed to Leide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's to the longest chapter yet!  
> Loooving the comments!! <3 It makes me so happy seeing so many people following this fic.  
> Keep up that guess work, by the way.

Insomnia was burning.

NH-01987 watched from the safety of the Imperial dropship as a another one a short distance away presumably malfunctioned and was sent crashing into one of the city’s skyscrapers. Glass windows shattered, sending small sparks of reflected light up into the sky from the force of the impact; before the entire upper half of the building was engulfed in an explosion. The creature that had been unleashed now hung, _screaming_ , from a nearby spire. Its body had been impaled the moment the ship had dropped onto it.

All he could hear were people screaming down below; the gunfire as MT troopers shot down civilians with no mercy, just cold hard orders. If such an action was possible for a machine, NH-01987 wanted to be sick.

“Well, I daresay everything has proceeded according to plan.” Ahead of him, stood alongside Emperor Iedolas, Chancellor Izunia practically purred his words whilst gesturing over the destruction of the Citadel. The peace treaty had been a complete farce, a mere distraction as the Empire finally got it’s grasp on the Crystal and tore Insomnia to shreds. That very Crystal was being lifted from the remains of the building right before his eyes. Ardyn withdrew his hand, turning his gaze to the Emperor. “No?”

“So it has. We have broken the walls, all that remains is to break the City.” Iedolas replied simply, coldly.

“Shall we take our leave, then? The sun will soon set. We need not be here to witness the terrors of the night.”

With that said, the two of them turned and retreated into the darkness of the hold as the hangar door began to close. Closing on the last light of the city that had once shone with such a breath-taking beauty; only now to be shrouded in clouds of smoke and fire. NH-01987 was stood against the far wall of the vessel, his back straight and his arms tucked underneath his cloak; but where his fingers entwined, they grasped _desperately_ against one another as the machine tried to keep an emotionless stance.

The smell of blood and smoke mixed heavily in the air around him, making him want to gag; but still, as obedient as ever, he barely moved. The Emperor moved to the front of the dropship, whilst Ardyn hung back, sparing a glance to the MT with a smirk.  
He didn’t say anything, but there was something knowing about that look. Something that made NH-01987 only straighten his back even further, tilting his chin slightly so he appeared like the machine he really was.

Ardyn had been right:

It didn’t take long for the sun to set on Insomnia, and by the time it did the trio were now safely aboard the Imperial Flagship, looking down once more at the endless destruction. They’d been sat there a good hour or so, various conversations having popped up; but mostly, to watch the city burn.

Emperor Iedolas sat in his throne on the bridge, with Ardyn stood to his left. The Chancellor’s hand was lazily draped over the back of the chair as he spoke.

“Ah, such a pitiful waste.” He chimed, gesturing one hand forward to illustrate his words. “All those beautiful city streets, all laid to unsightly ruin.”

NH-01987 certainly had to agree with that; it made his stomach turn to see the city brought to its knees under the fire of the Empire and Daemons alike. The words however, did not seem to faze the Emperor; as clearly his mind was focused far more on the goal ahead.

“I will return to Niflheim.”

“So soon?”

“The Crystal is ours. Finish this, and see the Daemon is disposed of.” Iedolas ordered, sparing a glance to the side as Chancellor Izunia removed his hat and dipped forward in a bow; it was a bow that lacked authenticity, in NH-01987s opinion. Then again, so did most of the Chancellor’s actions. 

“As you command.” Ardyn nodded, already turning on his heel and replacing his hat back atop his head. NH-01987 felt his circuits run cold as the man began to advance towards him, muttering further complaints about the waste under his breath. Before leaving the bridge, he paused and glanced back. “NH-01987, with me, if you will?”

Dipping his head in a nod, the Unit followed behind quietly as the Chancellor departed from the bridge; to the vast corridors that ran throughout the flagship. There was a purpose to his swayed stride, his arms swinging loosely at his sides; though there was something in his movements that NH-01987 had neglected to notice before. Irritation? Perhaps the man’s words had been truer than the MT realised; he really did think the destruction currently befalling Insomnia was a waste.

The two walked in silence; passing by a variety of MT troops guarding the hallways, most of which were inactive unless needed. 

NH-01987s thoughts couldn’t help but drift to the Prince and his friends; all of which who were likely dead by now. There was already the confirmation that the King had fallen, it was unlikely the young Prince had managed to make an escape; especially as the fighting had broken out from the Citadel. He felt his stomach malfunction at the thought of the four of them dead. Nyx had been cold at first, but had eventually treated NH-01987 as an equal. Gladiolus and Ignis had clearly held their doubts about him, but even they had been laughing on that final day. Noctis though… That was another matter entirely.

He’d never gotten a chance to apologise for his behaviour.

It was _stupid_.

Here he was, acting like a human. They had been the enemy, nothing more than that.

His programming was faulty. He was faulty. Why did it matter that they had died?

NH-01987 hadn’t quite noticed the extent of his agitation, his glitching, until he caught himself clenching both plated fists at his sides. Ardyn was ahead of him and hadn’t noticed; but he immediately ceased the unusual action.

“You shall be deployed to Leide.” The Chancellor announced, stopping in his footsteps so suddenly that the MT only just prevented himself from walking into the man’s back. Leide? What could they possibly need in Leide, if they’d just taken the Crown City? Ardyn was turning to face him, the previous smirk stretching out across his lips. “What better use for our _Commander_ than securing the border? After all, we can’t have any fugitives from the City seeing those mountains as a pass through.”

He supposed that made sense; but surely he was better off being situated with the blockade on the road to Insomnia instead?

“I trust this isn’t a problem?”

In response, NH-01987 ducked into a brief bow. Orders were orders, and could not be disobeyed. No matter how confusing they were; he lived to serve the Empire.

“Good. You are to depart shortly. Your troops await you in the dropship deck.” The Chancellor nodded, moving to walk past the MT-…

Before stopping, barely any distance between them both now.

“Oh, how silly of me. Just one more, tiny thing.”

NH-01987 could practically feel the man’s voice vibrating against his helmet; that was just how close he was stood right now.

“Although I am so _very_ grateful to your upstanding service…” He began, turning his golden gaze unsettlingly on to the MT; who wanted to do nothing more but look away. He couldn’t. Once again he was blessing the helmet. “It would be best if others are not made aware of our past relations. It might make them… uncomfortable, shall we say?”

What? That order made little sense; and yet he was obliged to follow it.

“Just simply… Consider me a man of no consequence.”

And with that, the Chancellor left him there – standing and staring in confusion at the man’s retreating back. 

Leide. 

NH-01987 couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d visited the area; but could remember just how barren, hot and damn right dusty it had been. Despite that though, he’d done his best to commit the scenery to memory; how the morning sun made the dunes look like gold dust, or how the sky seemed so bright when lit up with a sunset. He supposed if he’d been human, he’d be more inclined to take a digital record of such a place. One thing was for sure though; the people there weren’t friendly towards the Empire in the slightest, especially to a Commander.

His footsteps echoed loudly as he continued his way down the hallway and onwards further to the deck where the dropships were docked. Sure enough, as he descended the railings down to the hangar, he could see the line of six standard MT Units awaiting orders in front of a ship. Red energies seeped throughout the room from its engine, a smoke that always made him feel renewed, exhilarated, strong.

He didn’t need to address the troops. They had their orders.

Stepping up the ramp into the dropship, he barely glanced back as the group followed; lining the inner edges of the ship before falling still once more. NH-01987 positioned himself in line, and let his mind fall blank as the door began to draw shut, the hum of the engine whirring to life.

‘Estimated time to destination: 2 hours, 23 minutes.’

For the first time in almost two weeks, NH-01987 did his best to try and let himself relax. He suspended thoughts of Insomnia’s fall, of the fate those four would have suffered by now. Instead, he let himself consider his orders; how to carry them out; how best to line his troops along the mountain range that sat just west of Insomnia across the water. He really doubted any fugitives would use such a route for escaping; though supposed the main road out of the city wouldn’t be an option for them either. But the water was vast, and it would take a miracle for anyone to be able to cross it in the dead of night.

He brushed his hand against the Quicksilver currently holstered at his side, a sense of familiarity securing him in place for a moment. Despite how normal he’d been treated in Insomnia, he couldn’t let himself forget: he was a machine. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The rest of the flight went by smoothly, with the MTs attention solely on his own inner turmoil. Finally, the creak and steam of the descent was enough for him to raise his head once more, taking a brief glance at the Units around him. Six Units in total, four equipped with axes and two with rifles.

They all had the standard issue armour; and even NH-01987s armour lacked the usual flare from before. Instead, the only piece that actually stood out was the crimson cloak with the Griffon embroidered into it. It was light weight and far more suitable for fighting than the previous gift from the Chancellor.

The landing went smoothly, and they were soon deployed on the ground. Low lights in the distance were telltale of a nearby settlement; a hunter base, if his data banks served him correctly. Regardless, it wasn’t of his concern as he stepped across the warm landscape and peered through the darkness. The other troops had already spread out, taking up advantageous positions around the area in a systematic fashion. NH-01987 moved to find himself a darkened outcrop of wall…

And waited.

Something he was more than used to doing by now. He could wait hours if ordered to.

What he didn’t realise at the time, was that it would be _days._

By the second morning from their deployment, things had been going smoothly. No one had attempted to cross through the mountains, and NH-01987 had begun to busy himself by surveying the grand landscape around; occasionally attempting to record it into the confines of his memory. When the sun was up, it was absolutely stunning and wasn’t something he wanted to forget again. Once, in the distance of the road, he’d caught a glimpse of something yellow – too small to be a car, yet too large to be a person. It had moved with surprising speed; but despite his best attempts he’d been unable to work out exactly what it was. Strangely, it had fascinated him.

NH-01987 was half way through a report by the second afternoon that he hadn’t heard the explosion at first; his gaze set on the papers outlined on a counter in the vacant dropship. They detailed rough sightings of ‘fugitives’ in the area, but only really held vague witness statements and blurry photographs.

Wait.

Explosion?

No sooner had realisation set in, a second explosion was set off; presumably from troops further up the valley nearer the trenches. Upholstering his gun, NH-01987 wasted no time in stepping back out into the bright light of the sun, flinching as a third explosion sounded; fire rising into the air a short distance away. Then-... Ice? What? It looked as if someone had simultaneously set off a blizzard and a firestorm in one; if such a thing was actually possible. From where he was stood, he couldn’t see the battle, only the rising clouds of smoke and snow above.

But if he could hear it, then why couldn’t the troopers around him?

Not one of them had moved towards the battle. 

Their orders were to engage the enemy-

_Weren’t they?_

For a moment he forgot the need to go forward, to actually investigate the source of the fight below. He’d paused just in front of one of the Units, noting it’s lack of activation. The eyes were dim, and completely unaware of the fight below apparently.

“Status report.” NH-01987 requested; hoping it would respond better to a voice command than its own orders.

Nothing.

Turning on his heel, he regarded the other five Units which were all within hearing distance of the battle. None of them were moving.

There was a sinking feeling of dread in his gut.

If these Units didn’t activate, he really didn’t fancy his chances against whatever threat was down the path; which was no doubt approaching as the noises of the fight had died down by now. Reluctantly, NH-01987 turned back to the deactivated MT.

“Status report.” He tried again.

Still nothing.

Then a flicker of movement as the Units eyes lit up. It reached for its gun and loaded it; earning a nod of relief from NH-01987.

“Uh, about time, status repo-“

And at point blanc range, the Unit pulled the trigger on the rifle.

The noise was what registered in NH-01987s mind first, the pure ear-splitting sound as the bullet struck and ripped through the cloth armour covering his chest. It sounded as if someone had cracked a whip right next to his ear; immediately followed with a strange dizzying sensation that had him stumbling on his footing in an attempt to keep himself upright. Had it just shot him? He’d heard of MTs malfunctioning in the past, but this one had seemed entirely normal up until that minute.

Almost immediately after, the familiar sensation of blistering, white pain set into his side. NH-01987 stumbled backwards in shock, before programming finally got the better of him. Raising his own gun, he aimed straight between the Unit’s eyes and pulled the trigger. Sparks flew up as the bullet connected with the metal; before the trooper’s eyes dimmed out and it fell backwards; disintegrating into a cloud of smoke almost immediately on the dust. Only its weapon remained.

Clasping an armoured hand around his side, he realised with horror just how much black blood was seeping free from the gunshot wound.

He was roughly seventy percent sure that the bullet was still lodged inside him. And by the Six it _hurt._

Turning his back to the remains of the MT and retreating towards the dropship, he heard a shift of movement behind him. Metal grinding on metal.

And turned just in time to avoid an axe to the face. The other MTs had activated; and seemed to be just as glitchy as the first one. Raising his gun a second time, he desperately let off a blind shot at the machine in front of him; rendering one of its arms useless. Despite the pain in his side, NH-01987 rose one foot up and kicked the Unit hard, causing it to fall backwards whilst he unloaded another bullet; this time into its face. Like the one before, it fizzled into a cloud of smoke.

Another gunshot.

More pain burst through him; this time originating from his arm as a bullet grazed it – causing him to drop his gun down the slope of the dropship’s ramp. There were still four Units left, one with a rifle and three with axes; the latter of which were beginning to approach in a run.

_I’m going to die._

He immediately pushed that thought back as he retrieved his sword instead, charging forward before tackling one of the oncoming MTs rather unceremoniously to the dirt. It was his best attempt of surviving, if he could throw it off balance. Sure enough, it dropped the axe, but proceeded to swing a well-aimed punch into his already bleeding side. NH-01987 tumbled off of it, groaning against the renewed pain. He could practically taste the sand against his lips as he tried to push himself back up to stand; grabbing for his sword once more.

No way in Eos was he going down this easily.

Wrapping his free hand around the MTs legs, he tugged it back down to the dust before embedding the sword straight through its wired chest, swiftly pushing himself ungracefully backwards once the machine was disintegrating to avoid another axe as the other Units caught up. That move had left him in range of his gun, however, and he swiftly dispatched the rifleman Unit, and another of the axe Units. Leaving just one to deal with. 

It was closer than he’d have liked, already striking out with the axe; the blade colliding hard with NH-01987s shoulder and ripping flesh anew. Black blood spilled free and stained down his cloak as he jerked backwards; only opening the wound further with the sudden motion. Raising his gun in his shaking hand, he aimed it up at the Unit and fired. The shot missed.

Gravity suddenly did a flip, and he belatedly realised that he’d fallen; his back colliding against the hard dirt beneath him. There was the odd feeling of warmth against his head under his helmet; his gun spinning free from his hand as black spots danced over his vision. All of a sudden the sounds of the MT above him seemed distant and muffled; his wounds feeling numb and thoughts disconnected.

There was a flash of blue light above him, and he briefly wondered if he’d shot the MT hard enough to cause excess electricity. No wait, he hadn’t landed that shot. Had he? He couldn’t recall.

Staring up at the face of death itself, NH-01987 mused at the irony that he’d be killed by a mindless MT of all things; not even on a battlefield. It was fitting, really. 

Slowly but surely, he let the darkness drag him under.

 

\---

 

“That’s six!” Gladio boomed, grinning at the disappearing clouds of smoke from felled MTs around him, digging his greatsword into the ground. Noctis spared him a glance which almost suggested amusement before taking a quick tally of his own kills.

“Four.” He groaned, knowing he wasn’t going to live that one down. They’d only just left the Keycatrich Trenches after retrieving the Royal Arms; which was a whole new sensation to get used to. And honestly, seeing the MT troops lined up and ready to fight had been a welcoming reason to vent some frustrations. He’d left Insomnia with the aim to travel to Altissia to meet Luna; but instead the city had fallen and his life had been thrown to quite literal hell. Cor had only just departed from the group, and already Noctis couldn’t keep his mind off of the outburst he’d given the Marshal in the Tomb.

Ignis retrieved his daggers from the ground before sending them back into subspace. “Three. It would appear I’m lacking today.” He remarked, pushing his glasses up his nose as he took in the surroundings. “To think that the Empire has deployed Units here though; to what end?”

“Hell if I know, makes good practice though.” Gladio grunted, letting go of his blade as it faded into blue particles.

“Yeah. Gladio has a point.” Noctis murmured, shrugging as he poked at the remains of an MT with the tip of his sword, thoughts already elsewhere.

A gunshot rang throughout the air from up ahead.

“Rematch? Loser is gathering firewood tonight.” The Shield suggested, grinning over at Noctis with the challenge.

“Why not.” The Prince nodded. Not much enthusiasm in his tone, but he had to admit the prospect of getting an early night’s sleep whilst avoiding firewood duties was something to be relished.

“Perhaps the two of you should focus more on the fight at hand, rather than bets?” Ignis suggested with a sigh, shaking his head.

“Can’t help it if the kid’s so eager to lose.”

“Stopped being a kid when I hit twenty, Gladio.”

“You’ll stop being a kid when you eat your vegetables.” 

That quick comment from the Shield was enough to bring a tug of a smile to Ignis’ lips in amusement, though Noctis’ face remained purely unreadable as he sauntered forward; already planning how hard he was going to hit the next set of MTs. It shouldn’t feel good, but with the shit he’d gone through in the past few days, it did. Exhaustion however was constantly tugging at the back of his mind and he suspected the same for Ignis and Gladio; Keycatrich Trench hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park, with him having to warp up into the air to take down _birds_ of all things.

The Imperial dropship finally came into sight and he sped up his pace.

Only to be grabbed as Gladio pulled him backwards. “Wait.”

“What?” He scowled; not impressed at being stopped from rushing head on into the fray.

“Are they-…” The Shield frowned, not entirely sure how to word it.

“They appear to be fighting one another.” Ignis clarified.

Impatiently, Noctis scanned his gaze over the fight up ahead. Ignis was right, two MTs were currently led in the sand and as the Prince watched, one of them managed to dispatch the other with a blade. Two more gun shots rang out as it shot down two others with an incredible accuracy. With just itself and one other left, they watched as it managed to get back to its feet; only to fall to the ground once more.

“Whatever. Free kill, right?” Noctis sighed, summoning forth a dagger into his grasp before sprinting forward.

“Noctis!”

“Get back here!”

Once he was in range of the fallen MT and its foe, he threw the dagger forward. There was a metallic crash as it embedded itself in the MTs chest, and he let the Crystals energies envelope him as he warped. A brief feeling of absolute weightlessness, before he found himself face-to-face with the machine, driving the dagger even deeper into its circuits and watching with a victorious smirk as those red, glowing eyes dimmed to nothing. With a small push, he sent it tumbling backwards; crashing to the ground and throwing up a small cloud of dust as it disintegrated. 

One down, one to go. Gladio and Ignis hadn’t caught up with him yet; meaning he could still even out the odds of that score.

Turning to the MT on the ground, he was rather disappointed to see that it appeared to already be nearly dead. If they could die, he supposed. Black ooze seeped from the Unit’s helmet, shoulder, arm and side; staining the regal red cloak that it was sprawled out upon. The only evidence of it still being alive was that it hadn’t disintegrated yet.

Slowly and lazily, he summoned his sword and rose it over the machines chest. It wasn’t exactly an interesting kill, but it meant no firewood duty. Early sleep. Both plus sides.

“Noctis- Your Highness, WAIT!” His hand wavered as Ignis yelled across, finally reaching him.

“What? It was an easy kill. Didn’t see the point in hanging back.” Noctis shrugged, staring at the Advisor.

Ignis wasn’t listening; which was enough in itself to tell Noctis that something wasn’t quite right. Having caught his breath, the bespeckled male knelt down next to the Unit, leaving the Prince to send his blade back to subspace. There was something serious about Ignis’ expression, and a glance up at Gladio told him that even the Shield didn’t know what had come over the man all of a sudden.

Ignis reached out to the stained crimson cloak that gently blew against the sand; turning part of it over to reveal the golden embroidery beneath.

Noctis felt his blood run cold.

A Griffon’s head was stitched into it.

The three of them hesitated for a moment; stuck in a loop of silence as the impact of that revelation sunk in. Finally, as usual, it was Ignis who was brave enough to attempt what the others were thinking.

They _had_ to know.

With careful and steady hands, Ignis reached forward and clasped his grip around the metallic helm, which continued to seep dark ooze from within. There was a small click, and the Advisor carefully slid it free.

Gladio turned away, pressing a hand over his mouth.

Ignis let the helmet drop in surprise, which rolled briefly across the sand.

Noctis couldn’t tear his eyes away; a sickening feeling creeping up in his stomach.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been _this._

Noctis had been at least expecting a machine; but what he looked down upon now was far from that. A pale face, marred with black ooze, was what greeted him. He was clearly unconscious, his expression twisted slightly in pain, two blonde brows furrowed against it. Freckles spanned the stretch of his cheeks and nose, with the far side of his face marked by lines; a tattoo? No, a bar code. Blonde hair stuck out awkwardly in different directions; at odd lengths and flicks that honestly in better humour would have reminded him of the tail end of a Chocobo.

He felt sick.

Suddenly those memories of sparring him, of playing Kings Knight with him, suddenly they felt far too real. Far too twisted. Niflheim weren’t exactly known for selling flowers, but he hadn’t heard any rumour of experimentation.

“Gladio.” Ignis finally recovered. “Hand me a potion.”

“What?”

“Now, Gladio.”

There was a pause as the Shield tried to comprehend the situation. On one hand, this was just a kid. On the other, a Commander of the Imperial Eos-damned army. Even Noctis could understand the conflict there.

“Either we let him die here in the dust, or we help and consider our options at a later date.” Ignis pushed, looking up at the male.

Ignis was right.

Noctis moved to shrug his jacket free from his shoulders, earning a surprised look from the Advisor as he joined him on the ground, pressing the material down hard against the male’s seeping side.

The black ooze-… Blood?

He hoped not. There was a lot of it.

“Hell, since when were the Nifs using kids…” Gladio swore, before passing Ignis a potion as previously requested.

Ignis had to work fast, moving his hands to peel back Noctis’ jacket from the wound in the blonde’s side. Pressing his fingers against it only elicited a groan of pain from the otherwise unresponsive victim. The bullet was still inside; he could feel it. Quickly glancing across to Gladio, the male nodded before shifting position to hold the Commander down by his arms, Noctis doing the same with his legs.

“Hold him still.” The Advisor reminded.

Noctis watched as Ignis grimaced before pushing his hand around the wound; using his free one to press a fingertip inside the bullet hole, attempting to remove the bullet as gently as possible. Gently, however, wasn’t going to be enough. Immediately the blonde jerked in pain, crying out; a sound that was far too human and certainly stamped out any further doubt in the group. Blood began to flow freely from the wound as Ignis finally pulled the bullet free and threw it aside. Taking the potion from earlier, he held it over the wound before crushing the bottle and letting the liquid seep over the wound.

“Hey! Hold still there, kid!” Gladio growled, struggling to keep his grip on the blonde. “C’mon, Prompto, wasn’t it? If you keep thrashing around, you’ll only worsen those wounds!”

Something about that seemed to register in the blonde, as he managed to stifle his movements down to the occasional shift and groan; both eyes tightly closed in pain.

“The potion seems to have limited effects.” Ignis noted. The potion had halted the flow of blood, but it didn’t seem to be healing the wound further than that. The bleeding from the blonde’s arm and shoulder had stemmed as well, which was something.

Noctis couldn’t tear his gaze away from the pained blonde’s face; previous anger for Niflheim only feeling doubled by now. He was so caught up in those thoughts that he didn’t notice Ignis trying to catch this attention.

“-..ct? Noct?”

“Yeah?”

“We need to move him. There’s a haven nearby, which would be far safer than trying our luck here. Imperial patrols are too frequent.” Ignis explained, as Gladio slipped both arms under the blonde; carefully picking him up. The Shield still seemed as horrified as Noct felt; unable to look away from Prompto’s expression, Promptos very human expression.

Finally, he nodded. Ignis’ statement had hidden the question as to whether they really should be taking a Niflheim Commander like this; but none of them were willing to let someone bleed out in the middle of the plains.

“Lets go.” Ignis remarked, beginning to stride back towards where they’d left the Regalia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAPPENED, WOO!  
> WHAT DO YOU GUYS THINK? :D


	6. Nowhere To Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NH-01987 wakes, but there's a lack of trust afoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks!  
> Firstly- I'm -really- sorry for the late update, and this chapter is a liiitttle bit short. I'm currently doing my final exams, but I thought I'd squeeze this one in for you all.  
> Secondly! I drew NH-01987! The image should be visible below! <3 My tumblr is under the same name if anyone wants to get a look at the original sized image.

  


He had been in commission for twelve years when he’d killed his first man. A routine patrol of Gralea’s borders had led them across scavengers who had been daring, or stupid, enough to try and steal rations from the city. It was a common occurrence seeing those scavengers; food in the snowy region was sparse at the best of times, leaving many people to consider life outside the city preferable to living under the Imperial rule. That was fine, as long as they weren’t stupid enough to try and come back with the intention of stealing.

Which left him unfortunately stood beside a commanding officer, being ordered to shoot the criminal. His gun had felt so heavy and unnatural in his hands; despite feeling fine moments prior. As if all the weight of that decision had solidified itself in the barrel. NH-01987 stood stiff as he stared down at the weeping man in front of him.

“Please! I swear to you, I had no choice! I have a family, a wife! Children! Oh Six please, think of my children!” He bawled, covering his head with his hands and cowering against the snow beneath.

The snow. That was something he could recall so clearly; it had been the morning after a fresh drift had settled and the majority of the landscape had yet to be blemished by footsteps. Each small tug of breeze had pulled flakes free from the ground and up into the embrace of the wind; creating flurries of a soft and white grace.

His distraction after an order had done anything but please the Commander. “I’ve given you orders, NH-01987. Shoot.”

A throbbing in his head was more than enough to let him know that he was straying too close to disobeying. Biting down on his lip beneath the helm was all he could do to distract himself from that pain as he raised the gun in his hands.

He didn’t want to shoot.

He _really_ didn’t want to shoot.

“I beg of you! Please! I’ll give the goods back, I swear it! You’ll never see me again!” The man continued, shaking with realisation.

NH-01987 couldn’t bear the pain growing in his head any longer. He closed his eyes, tensed, and pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times.

Thud.

The sound of the man’s body hitting the snow wasn’t something he was ever going to forget. Nor how upon opening his eyes, he could see the blood seeping out into the white snow; staining the previously beautiful drifts.

“Move on.” Came the next order; and despite how much he wanted to be sick, how much he wanted to cry, orders forced him to move on. Reluctantly, he holstered his gun and sauntered forward.

That was the first time he’d shot a man, and perhaps it had gotten easier each time. Or, perhaps he had simply learned to bury that guilt where he could no longer feel it.

It was that strange memory that floated through his thoughts, before NH-01987 became aware that he was certainly no longer that twelve-year commissioned MT; now a good twenty years into that number. The pain in his skull was constant; emanating in waves of agony as he began to wake. His shoulder was worse; it felt as if someone was taking a constant hot blade to it, ripping it slowly through his skin. Unable to recall exactly where he was, he briefly considered the possibility that he’d managed to corrupt his memory data.

No… There was something. Leide. He’d been sent to Leide under orders to maintain the border.

He’d been attacked by his own unit?

Immediately that recollection had him trying to sit up and force himself back to consciousness; a weight pressed against him and forced him down; though that didn’t stop him finally managing to blink his eyes open to the light. By the Six it was bright. Although his vision was blurred, he could make out the vague structure of material above him; a tent? Someone was lent over him, and the weight on his chest previously was that person’s hand, preventing his brief attempt at rising.

It was only when his vision cleared enough was he able to actually make out the form sat above him-…

Dressed in dark clothing, and hair of the same to match; two lazy blue eyes stared down at his own; an expression of surprise on his face – clearly he hadn’t been expecting such a sudden awakening.

The Crown Prince of Lucis.

“Wouldn’t move if I were you, Ignis’ll freak if you bust those stitches.” Noctis informed, his eyes glancing over him; only furthering NH-01987’s reasoning to try and sit up. This second attempt though, only made him aware of a tight pain in his wrists.

What?

They’d tied his wrists behind his back. Well, that was smart, he supposed.

Noctis’ gaze fell to the binds; or where he supposed they were, before the Prince spoke again. “Sorry, Gladio wasn’t too keen on the idea of taking risks.” He explained, though his gaze went back to meeting the blond’s own – almost as if searching for something.

It was uncomfortable, and NH-01987 made a point to look away and examine the tent around him. Wonderful, so he’d been attacked by his own units and taken prisoner, tied up whilst still relatively injured, and now the Prince was staring at him.  
As he relaxed back against the ground, Noctis removed his hand from NH-01987’s chest, earning a small cringe of pain as the wound flared up briefly. The Prince seemed to notice, muttering a brief apology before leaning back out of the tents flap, presumably calling out to one of the others.

“Specs, he’s awake!” 

Specs? Oh right, the guy with glasses who’d been glaring him down back in Insomnia. Just the thought of the city and what Niflheim had done to it was enough to make his stomach turn; did Noctis know the fate of his father? He hoped not. Though... The news had spread fast by the Empire’s demand. Breaking morale, and establishing command through fear. Noctis returned to sitting opposite him, though NH-01987 was more than aware that the Prince had positioned himself ready to move if he needed to. Did they really think he was going to attack them?

Well, he supposed he didn’t have orders to, or he’d be doing it without question.

The tent flap moved aside as Specs, no, Ignis stepped inside. His expression was tired, though inquisitive. Much like Noctis has, his gaze immediately met NH-01987’s own, staring at him as his frown deepened somewhat.

What was so fascinating about his face? Perhaps they were able to see past the false human persona, to the machine beneath?

“It’s good to see you awake. I was beginning to wonder if you would stir at all.” Ignis nodded over to him as he knelt down in the tent. “Apologies about the restraints, but you understand we have to be cautious.”

Both of them were staring at him, though perhaps without realising it. NH-01987 couldn’t avert his gaze; basic survival programming told him to keep his eye on the enemy at all times. Instead, he spoke.

“How-..” NH-01987 started, before coughing. A moment passed, before he tried again. “How long was I offline?” 

Noctis blinked in surprise, and Ignis barely managed to hide the very same expression. What? Had he said something wrong? It was the Advisor who managed to regain his composure first, glancing once to Noctis before replying.

“No longer than a day. The potions we administered weren’t entirely effective, so I imagine you’ll be sore for a while. I wouldn’t suggest any strenuous activities.”

They’d attempted potions? NH-01987 was aware that the effects didn’t mix well with Niflheim’s MTs. Not that many ever really needed potions.

“How much do you recall of what happened?” Ignis continued.

“Uh, I was sent to patrol the border. Guess a couple of the MT Units with me malfunctioned, or something.” Or something indeed, he’d never heard of an entire troop malfunctioning like that. 

Ignis looked as if he was ready to continue again, but this time Noctis interrupted. “You’re not like those other MT Units.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. A glance up to the Prince’s expression confirmed NH-01987s suspicions; his face was twisted in anger – though the MT couldn’t quite work out what he’d done to offend the male this time. Instinctively, he shrank back from the tone of the words. It wasn’t just matter-of-factly, but also sharp and held hidden layers of accusation. 

“Noct-“ Ignis started.

“What? We’re just going to sit here and pretend that we don’t have a freaking human sat here, who we found in full Niff MT armour, in our tent?”

NH-01987 flinched. Did they honestly think he was human? Though, the rest of that sentence brought his attention to his lack of armour. They’d removed it to get at the wounds, leaving him in a shirt and pants that... definitely weren’t his. His armour was situated across the tent in a neat pile, though even he could see the black blood stains from where he led. It was likely ruined.

“Enough.” Ignis’ tone was sharp and commanding, and it seemed to quieten the seething Prince. “Perhaps you’d like to go help Gladio with gathering firewood for the night?” He suggested, earning an annoyed grunt from the Prince as the latter left the tent in a huff.

A few moments passed.

“Do excuse Noctis, this week has taken its toll on all of us. None of us expected to add human experimentation to our knowledge of Niflheim.”

_Human experimentation?_

“You’re uh, wrong there.” NH-01987 returned his gaze to the tent material up above him. “I’m not human, really. It’s just an appearance to make infiltration easier.”

“Right, and I suppose bleeding and organs are just decoration too?” Ignis remarked, a frown set on his expression.

NH-01987 paused for a moment, thinking over his answer through the pounding headache. He really didn’t feel so good all of a sudden. The Advisor seemed to notice this and let a sigh leave his lips before shifting position so that he was sat just aside the MT, leaning over to press the palm of his hand over the blond’s clammy forehead.

“I’m afraid with the inefficiency of potions, it would seem you’ve developed a fever.” He informed, moving his hand away once more. “I’d suggest attempting to sleep through it, I cannot see why it won’t pass with time as your body recovers.”

Sleeping suddenly sounded like the most beautiful idea known to Eos at that moment. It didn’t even occur to him that he shouldn’t need sleep to recover; that it would happen with time regardless. Closing his eyes, he muttered a hopefully coherent response of: “Yeah, sounds good…”

 

\---

 

Ignis watched as the blond fell into a rather swift slumber at the suggestion. He watched as those glowing crimson eyes closed under the weight of a fever and exhaustion. The boy looked entirely human aside from the bar code tattooed to his cheek and those irises. And yet, he seemed so strongly convinced that he was anything but. Sparing a glance over to where the red cloak lay, where the gryphon stitching contrasted it, he turned his attention from that to the recovering blond. On one hand, he was aiding a renowned Commander of Niflheim’s army. On the other, a scared boy who didn’t even understand what it meant to be human.

Finally, Ignis stepped out of the tent and into the light. Taking care to do the flap up, he stepped across the haven to where the other two were already bickering.

“We’re not taking the damned ropes off of it- him.” Gladio growled, dumping a pile of wood down.

“Oh what, you really think he’s going to be able to take on all three of us? I bet he can’t even stand!” Noct argued, dumping his pile down too.

“What part of Commander of the Niflheim Army did you not understand?”

“He’s no older than I am!”

“He’s a damned Niff, Noct! You’ve seen his eyes- that’s not normal, whatever the hell they did to him, he’s not the same as you.”

“Right, because I clearly had a choice with what I wanted to do with my life.”

“That’s duty! That kids seen nothing but the shit side of Gralea, Noct!”

Ignis stood quietly, with a frown on his lips as he watched the two bicker. He could see both sides of this argument, and wasn’t even personally sure if they were making the right choice in aiding the blond. He’d shown them his humanity back in Insomnia, but he’d also been the MT of choice for the Chancellor; which meant he more than likely had known the fate of Insomnia before it had fallen. Not to mention the countless Glaive’s who had fallen to him in the various border battles over the years. And yet… Despite all this, all Ignis could see was a confused boy with nowhere to go.

“Noct. I’ll remove the restraints next time he wakes, on the promise that you keep yourself armed and cautious around him.” Ignis informed, watching as Noctis relaxed slightly. “Gladio, we’ll take turns in keeping watch tonight. Take one of the Thundara flasks and keep it to hand; though don’t pick one of the more potent ones.” Hopefully they wouldn’t have to resort to such measures, but he supposed the Shield would feel better knowing they were in place.

“This is bullshit. We should be on our way back to Hammerhead, not-“ Gladio started, shaking his head.

“Are you honestly suggesting we leave someone out here to die, tonight? Or have you forgotten all that respect you held for Prompto before we left Insomnia?” Ignis challenged, beginning to lack in patience. 

That seemed to stop Gladio’s anger in its tracks.

“-… I’ll take first watch, then.” He concluded with a grunt, stepping over to the campfire before setting himself down in one of the chairs. “But don’t pretend like you’re doing this solely out of some damn morality; you and I both know information on the Empire could be what we need right now.”

“Perhaps, but let’s not stoop to the Empires level, shall we?” Ignis mused, shaking his head as he joined Gladio by the fire. Noctis had returned to the tent behind to keep an eye on the injured soldier, though as per request Ignis had noticed the Prince pulled a small dagger from subspace.

“You really think the kid’s human?” Gladio asked after a moment of silence.

“I’m not entirely sure what I believe; it would appear that he sees himself as no more than a machine. That could be merely what he’s been told by the Empire, a farce to keep them obedient, or-…” He trailed off.

“Or?”

“Or… It could be that Niflheim has delved into the research involving human experimentation, which would explain his eyes and lack of a response to potions. The blood, too.”

“You think he’s a-“

“Lets... Keep that one between us for now. It would be needless to let Noct worry further. But it is a possibility.”

Silence fell over the two and left them to their thoughts. Daylight hours were waning, and they would soon be under the cover of night; perhaps a time in which Ignis could get more answers from the young blond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a comment with what you guys think :D


	7. Sticks and Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NH-01987 awakens again, only to realise something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the continued support folks; here's the next chapter!

The next time NH-01987 opened his eyes, the sun wasn’t as blinding through the gap in the tent. A soft orange glow filled the little bit of visible sky through the flap; and with the setting sun came a renewed feeling of strength. It wasn’t uncommon. Sunlight held that effect on nearly all the MTs in the Imperial Army. They were far stronger at night, far stronger in the hour of Daemons. Depending on the extent of _processing_ units went through, each one could stand a different level of sunlight. However, the further processed a MT was, the more armour it required to avoid simply burning alive.

NH-01987 couldn’t recall why he had been pulled from the processing line at such a young operational age. He’d barely been in service for ten years when he’d been reassigned to patrolling the outskirts of Gralea for infiltrators. That service had lasted only three years before another reassignment to the front lines as a serviceman against the Kingsglaive forces on the borders of Lucis. It hurt to recall every face of every man he had felled with his gun; something his memory banks wouldn’t let him so easily forget. Each shot still resounded clearly enough in the blonds ears all these years on.

The was one memory that stood out, staining his vision as he stared up at the darkening tent above him.

It had been only a year ago that he’d found himself stood amongst dozens upon dozens of soldiers, many of whom donned the Kingsglaive uniform. All in question were still and cold, half covered by dust as they led in crooked positions on the ground; on the soil of Galahd. On the _bloodied_ soil of Galahad. He hadn’t been able to tear his eyes from one of the nearest bodies; a woman not much older than him, eyes still open and forever locked on the horrors that the previous night had beheld. Niflheim had kept its Daemon research quiet, testing the brutality on the smaller battles where reports could easily be twisted.

This had been one of those battles.

Sure, the war between Niflheim and Lucis had officially ended almost thirty years prior, but the Empire occasionally caused skirmishes on the borders.

From the uniform, NH-01987 had been able to identify the woman as a member of the Kingsglaive. Her blade was still gripped in her cold hands and he suspected she’d attempted to raise it one last time before being felled down by the _test subjects._ There had been bravery once upon a time on her expression; did it honestly matter now though? Kingsglaive had been formed, as the rumours told, from the orphans of the areas Niflheim attacked. Taken into Lucis and trained, who was honestly going to miss them? The thought had made his stomach turn and malfunction.

It was a saving grace that those thoughts had been interrupted by a Commanding Officer, who had been shoving reports into his hands.

“You are to take command of the situation here. Check for survivors – I’m sure you know the drill by now.” He could barely remember the Commanders name, even now. They’d been of a similar age. Loqi? Yes, that was it. He’d waved his hand around to accentuate his orders though his gaze remained on the silent battlefield rather than the MT stood before him. “Oh, and congratulations, Commander, on your victory. As _always._ ” The last part of Loqi’s words had been underlined with spite. “The legend of the Griffon continues to live on.” 

With a brief gesture of his hand to NH-01987’s embroidered yet bloody cloak drifting gently in the breeze, Loqi had turned on his heel and left.

Leaving NH-01987 stood amongst the rubble of buildings and piles of corpses. Pushing back his glitches, he’d been determined to focus on his orders and not the horrific sight around him.

A sound outside brought his attention back to reality and away from stored memories.

Shifting his position on the make-shift sheets beneath him, he was immediately surprised to find that his hands were no longer bound. Were they seriously that stupid? They had no idea if he had orders to kill them; regardless of the fact his own unit had betrayed him, he was still a loyal soldier of the Empire.

_Wasn’t he?_

_What better use for our Commander than securing the border?_

Chancellor Izunia’s words had been lined with an unrecognisable tone; something that in hindsight only sent a shudder through him. Had his troops been commanded to attack him? If so, why? Unless… 

Unless they’d expected Prince Noctis and his companions to come across him.

Reality hit him then and there like a splash of cold water. This wasn’t some random incident: it was an infiltration mission. What better explanation was there for it? Why else send a Commander to its untimely death in the middle of a dust bowl like Leide?

If that was correct, then all he had to do was bide his time and wait for further orders.

First thing was first, he needed to know just how badly he’d been damaged. It took a moment and a great deal of effort for NH-01987 to finally push himself up into a sitting position, pressing one hand out against the sheets below to avoid toppling sideways as a rush of dizziness assaulted his systems. His head still throbbed somewhat, and his shoulder wasn’t much better off where the MTs axe had caught him. Lifting the bottom of his borrowed shirt, he frowned down at the sight underneath. The worst pain was definitely from the bullet wound; he could see that they’d attempted to use potions to heal it up – though such methods were likely linked to the Prince’s power, and thus the Crystal, rendering them near useless on a MT unit.

The tent flap was pushed aside as the Prince stepped, or rather crouched, into view; blue eyes widening a fraction as he noticed NH-01987 awake.

“You’re up.” The Prince remarked; as if that situation actually needed pointing out. His posture seemed awkward and NH-01987 suspected that wasn’t just due to the low height of the tent.

It took him a minute to find his voice again; still not used to using it. Even when he did, the sound was far weaker than he expected it to be. “Uh, yeah.”

Noctis seemed to pause for a moment, almost as if expecting the MT to talk further, before moving to the other side of the tent. Kneeling down, he rummaged through an open backpack before turning to face NH-01987 once more, a potion offered out in his palm. “Ignis said you should drink this when you wake.”

NH-01987 hesitated as he turned his crimson gaze to the offered vial. He doubted that even a vial of poison would do him any better than a potion would right now.

Noctis was still waiting, and moved the offered potion closer to him. “Look, it’s fine. Just take it.” He continued, clearly misreading the situation.

“It... It won’t really work.” NH-01987 finally managed, averting his gaze and letting his attention drift to another corner of the tent.

A brief moment of silence fell over the tent before Noctis spoke again, his voice somewhat strained. “Guess Niffs don’t bother to think about those sort of things when they’re screwing with human beings.”

Not quite. “No that’s not- I mean, uh, not really. Those things only work on humans, y’know.” NH-01987 offered, continuously skirting around the truth. The very truth that he figured should be pretty obvious by now. Noctis’ gaze wasn’t leaving him, though the Prince did draw his hand back and put the offered potion down aside him instead.

“Think what you will, but you look pretty human from where I’m sitting.”

_What?_

Those words had been spoken so casually and lazily; and yet were lined with the belief that the Prince honestly felt. They were surprising enough for the MT to raise his gaze and return it to the raven-haired male; who had averted his own to glaring down at the potion. His grasp on the bottle was strained; knuckles whitening under the pressure.

“I’m-.. I’m not-“

“Oi. You kids going to just sit in there all day?” Came a new, yet familiar voice, as Gladiolus stepped into the tent; crouching down as he pushed the flap aside. His gaze flickered briefly to the angered Prince, before returning to NH-01987. “Huh, you’re awake. Good. Feeling alright?”

“Y-Yeah, I mean, uh. Everything seems to be operational. Thanks for the uh, the help.”

This time NH-01987 didn’t notice as Noctis flinched at the choice of wording.

“Don’t thank me. Thank Ignis; if he hadn’t shown up, his Royal Idiot-ness here would have skewered you along with those MTs.”

“Tch, that’s what you think.” Noct quickly retorted, glaring over at the Shield.

“Right, what was it? Free kill?”

“Shut up. You’re loud.”

“Make me. You’re the one skimping out on training.”

It seemed the two of them had completely forgotten the MT sat in the middle of the tent; too busy bickering over something NH-01987 wasn’t entirely sure he understood.

With a dramatic wave of his hand, the Prince flopped down on one of the vacant bed sheets; rather abruptly turning his back to the Shield. “Too tired.”

“Don’t you dare go to sleep this early, Noct.” Gladio growled, already advancing across the small space in the tent to grab a hold of the Prince’s leg.

Noctis groaned, kicking lazily out at the offending grasp. “Five minutes.”

“That’s five centuries for you, kid!”

Before Noctis could even protest, the Shield was dragging him free from the bundle of sheets that he’d tried to engross himself in. It looked utterly ridiculous; the Crown Prince of Lucis being unceremoniously tugged out of a tent, throwing pointless threats at his assaulter. 

By the Six, it was so ridiculous that NH-01987 couldn’t help but laugh; genuinely laugh at how stupid the two of them looked. The moment he heard the sound, Noctis immediately looked towards the blond as if he’d been betrayed.

“O-Oi! Quit laughing and help me out here!” The Prince frowned, outstretching a hand towards NH-01987 for aid against his Shield.

And despite every fibre, every circuit of his being telling him it was a bad idea, NH-01987 grabbed a hold of that hand, pulling the Prince back into the tent; causing Gladiolus only to laugh harder at the combined effort of the two of them.

Eventually, both of them were tugged out of the tent and covered in dust. Noct scowling at his failure, and NH-01987 grinning at how stupid the Prince looked; all dishevelled and sleepy; it was a far better look on him than the scowl and anger from before. Even Gladiolus was grinning, particularly proud of his triumph over the two.

“Nice try, you two. How about you put that much effort in getting wood for the fire?”

NH-01987 blinked, looking over to Noctis.

Noctis stared straight back.

And both of them groaned in unison at the suggestion. 

It was the least NH-01987 could do to help them out, especially as they’d saved his life: though whether that was leading straight into his upcoming orders, he didn’t know. Although his wounds ached, the setting sun was certainly allowing him a renewed strength as night began to creep over the sky.

Getting to his feet outside the tent, he patted the dust free of his borrowed clothes before finally managing to get a decent look at the haven.

In that moment of observation however, he realised just how wrong it felt to be standing on that sacred ground. The dull light of the runes around him felt like a constant buzz of static teetering along his skin; not a particularly painful experience, but enough to be uncomfortable. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind reminding him that he really shouldn’t be stood on that stone; that stone blessed by the Oracle.

Ignis, who had been watching the brief scuffle with slight amusement on his expression, was stood over by a table full of cooking ingredients and utensils. Clearly, he had noticed NH-01987s sudden discomfort, as he called over: “Unless you would rather rest? I’m sure none of us would want to push you too far in your current state.”

Dull, throbbing injuries aside, NH-01987 figured he could ignore the weird sensation. Besides, he really didn’t feel like lying in that tent again only to recall exactly how he’d ended up in it in the first place.

“No, uh, I’m good. Totally good.”

Ignis didn’t appear to be convinced yet returned to his cooking regardless.

He didn’t have time to convince him otherwise, as Noctis was already dragging him back towards the tent they’d just been pulled out of – by the wrist, no less. It was such a unfamiliar gesture, that the blond immediately found himself tugging his arm away from that touch, flinching. The Prince paused in his steps at the action, though his expression remained unreadable before he turned his back once more and ducked into the tent. NH-01987 followed behind; a slight bit of guilt rising in his stomach after that.

“Here.”

He’d barely managed to duck inside the tent when he found his gun practically being shoved in his face.

Yeah, the Prince was totally insane.

Let’s just hand Niflheim’s Commander his gun back.

“Uh, dude, I don’t think-“

Noctis scoffed, cutting off the blonds words. “Yeah, good luck actually hitting me with it. Besides, woods have monsters and I’d rather not be watching your defenceless back.”

Hesitantly, NH-01987 took the gun in hand. The weight felt odd in his grasp, almost as if it no longer suited him. Had things really changed that much in a matter of hours?

“Your gear’s wrecked. Borrow some of my stuff for now.” And with that, the Prince was also shoving a black jacket in his direction and shoes.

In all honestly, NH-01987 was utterly confused by this point.

“Just-.. Wait. Stop.” He finally breathed out and luckily the Prince seemed to oblige; somewhat surprised by the sudden request enough to turn around and face the MT. “Are you totally insane? Like, why even help me? I mean, uh, we did just destroy Insomnia and you’re buddying it up with an MT?”

“I don’t see you shooting me with that gun there.”

“You said I’d miss.”

“Probably.”

“Dude, totally changing the subject.”

With a sigh, the Prince folded his arms across his chest and diverted his gaze over to NH-01987s previously discarded armour and cloak before finally speaking. “Doesn’t look like you had much of a choice.”

NH-01987 wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that. Of course he hadn’t had a choice, he wasn’t programmed to have one. That was just how things were.

Noctis clearly took the silence as an invitation to continue. “If you had orders right now to shoot me, you would.”

True.

“Don’t think you’d enjoy it though.”

That-… Would he? No, there was no joy in killing another person. It was a horrific glitch that he’d been forced to cover up for years; his hatred for pulling that trigger. Seeing the light and life fade from someone else’s eyes was the singular most horrifying thing anyone could witness. The very thought of it made NH-01987s stomach glitch and turn in disgust.

“There. Question answered. Now hurry up before Specs cooks _us_ for dinner.” Noctis smirked, leaving the tent with his own shoes in hand.

None of this makes sense.

Slipping his gun into the back of the borrowed jeans, NH-01987 pulled the shoes on before following the Prince and stepping back out into the dim sunlight. They didn’t have long until daemons would be on the prowl; and a silent agreement between the two of them was enough for them to head down the side of the Haven and into the woods below.

The moment they were away from the glyphs, NH-01987 felt a lot better in the absence of the previously noted sensation. That, and the setting sun only further fuelled his recovery.

With the woods darkening slowly, the walk through them was fairly fast paced before the two finally came across a healthy patch of trees in a clearing. They weren’t particularly far from the Haven; but far enough that the dim light of the runes was barely visible through the thick foliage of bushes. Noctis was already busying himself with collecting various large sticks up in his arms.

NH-01987 moved to the other side of the clearing and began collecting what he supposed was the right size sticks, a small frown on his lips as he tried to process their earlier conversation.

“Prompto?”

It took him a second to realise Noctis was calling him; the name sounding unfamiliar.

“Uh, that’s not my-“

“I’m not calling you by that Eos-damned code.” The Prince spat, anger lining his tone. Enough to make the blond flinch guiltily.

Noctis seemed to notice the reaction, though didn’t offer an apology. Instead, he awkwardly continued. “Are there other huma- MTs like you?”

What, as in glitchy? “Uh, not really. I mean, it depends on the level of programming, I guess.”

Noctis’ hand gripped harder on one of the twigs he picked up; accidentally snapping it. “Programming?”

“Sure- it’s uh, basic machine stuff really.”

“Right. I guess following orders is basic machine stuff too?”

Those words were said with spite; though NH-01987 had a feeling it wasn’t aimed at him.

“Don’t really have a choice there, it’s like-.. well…” NH-01987 trailed off for a moment, trying to think of the best way to explain it. “It’s bad if we don’t.”

“Bad?”

“Yeah just-.. It’s just bad.” He grimaced; trying not to recall the last time he’d tried to disobey a direct order. Instead, he tried to change the topic. “About Insomnia, it’s uh-.. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be. That was the Empire.”

“But I’m-“

“Not the Empire. Hurry up and grab those sticks; it’s getting dark.”

“Ah! Yep! Sorry!” NH-01987 nodded enthusiastically; determination on his expression as he began to gather up as many sticks as possible. There was amusement on Noctis’ face for a moment before the Prince moved back to his area and plucked up sticks from the ground. It didn’t take long for the two of them to have hefty bundles of twigs in their arms; both rather proud of their little collections.

The mood had significantly lightened by the time the two were ready to head back, walking side by side in the rough direction they’d come from.

“You’re a pretty good shot. For a Niff.” Noctis remarked, a smug smirk on his face as he tried to gesture to the gun behind NH-01987. Despite the words chosen, the tone was soft and amused.

“Totally. Best shot in the Army.” NH-01987 found himself bragging slightly; though it wasn’t entirely true. There were probably better, he just liked to think he was at the top. His scores in exercises had been far above average on multiple occasions.  
Noctis snorted; a rather out of place sound. “What, they hire just anyone then?”

“Dude! Like you could do any better!” And with that, he shoved against the Prince in retaliation for that comment; causing him to drop a few sticks in the process.

And… Ended up being shoved back; consequently dropping half his pile.

That only made Noctis laugh harder; leaving NH-01987 in a huff as he bent to pick them back up. Crouched against the grass, he carefully picked up each stick at a time; making sure that he hadn’t broken any with their little scuffle. 

“Did you really need to make me drop-“

He looked up just in time to see the Prince throw himself on top of him; shouting some kind of warning as large shape landed where he’d just been. 

Whatever it was, the growl was enough to confirm it wasn’t friendly.

_Crap._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pff-  
> It's me.  
> Did you expect anything other than a cliffhanger?


	8. Prompto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and NH-01987 attempt to fend off the Couerl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo! So sorry for the late post! There's going to be a clarification at the end of this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it!  
> As always, I LOVE seeing your comments! They give me life, kay?

It was as Prompto crouched down to retrieve the sticks he’d dropped that Noctis realised something wasn’t quite right. The forest around them had been buzzing with the sounds of wildlife until that very instance; suddenly falling to a deathly silence that sent shivers up the Prince’s spine. There were very few things that could cause such a shift in atmosphere. Iron Giants was one, yet there was no tell-tale sounds of bubbling or creaking limbs.

“Get down!”

Noctis didn’t have time to consider Prompto’s prior injuries as he shoved him to the ground; only just catching sight of the Couerl from the depths of the bushes in time. The previously collected sticks flew free from both their arms, doing nothing to break their fall as they collided with the grass.

The beast’s paws crashed to the ground where they’d been but moments prior as Noctis tugged on subspace and pulled his blade free from it. He felt the weight of the weapon before it materialised in his grip, letting free sparks of blue and white crystallised light. The Couerl was huge, even more so as it righted itself and glared down at its prey. Judging by the size, Noctis guessed it was one of the Elder Couerls that Ignis had warned them about before this hellish trip had started.

What he’d failed to mention was just how freaking big it was. A beast this size would easily even swamp Gladio’s height. Pushing himself off Prompto – who beheld quite the confused look for a moment, before noticing exactly what was ahead of them – Noctis turned to face the creature, holding his blade in front of him.

“Go get Specs!” He ordered; something he hated doing, but time really was of the essence. Noctis doubted he could fell the Couerl on his own, but by the Six he was damn willing to try.

He didn’t have time to check whether Prompto had heeded his words, reaching behind him before throwing the blade forward with a significant amount of force. Even as it left his grip, he could feel the residual tug of the Crystals energies that connected him to it. It was those very energies that he tugged back on, pulling himself through subspace to warp to the blade; grabbing a hold once more to delve it into the creature’s shoulder. Perhaps the Couerl hadn’t been expecting its prey to actually have fight in it, for the creature made no move to defend the strike. This gave Noctis the perfect chance to plant his feet firmly on the beasts back, using the blade to maintain his stance as he delved it deeper into the flesh beneath.

The roar that escaped the Couerl was positively deafening; a bloodcurdling yowl that echoed throughout the forest.

Noctis might have taken that moment to appreciate how accurate his warp had been; something Gladio was constantly berating him for, but the beast had other ideas. His world suddenly tipped sideways as the Couerl threw itself into a roll on the ground, attempting to dislodge the Prince from its shoulder.

He felt his grip slip from his blade at the sudden movement, before his back collided hard with the ground below; knocking his breath out of him – a feeling that was foreign enough to let panic rise in his stomach. Shit. He’d been far too overconfident in attempting to stun the beast that he hadn’t considered such a swift retaliation.

The Couerl was recovering, and now stood high over the Prince; clearly ten times angrier than it had been prior with the blade still lodged in its shoulder. Gaze fixed on its prey, it reared its head back as electricity began to spring to life in the air. Still struggling to drag breaths into his lungs, all Noctis could do was attempt to drag himself backwards from whatever the creature was about to unleash. He could feel small sparks of electric coursing up his bare arms and if it was even possible, the air felt even harder to inhale.

Well fuck. He was going to die to an oversized kitten with anger issues.

He could imagine the obituary now: Prince of Lucis, death by cat.

The blade in the Couerl's leg dissolved back to subspace; allowing Noctis to call it back to his grasp – though the action was likely futile. He didn’t have enough time to throw it as the beast opened its jaws wide; ready to unleash the full brunt of whatever ability it had begun to channel and-…

A loud shot cracked through the air.

With a roar, the Couerl fell aside, entirely interrupted by the unexpected attack. Noctis wasted no time in getting back to his feet before searching the surrounding area to see where the shot had come from.

Prompto was crouched a short distance off, revolver clutched in his grasp with a surprising amount of steadiness that Noctis didn’t expect to see. In the low light, he could see how the Commander’s crimson gaze seemed to almost glow against the darkness. No longer did he see the bumbling and awkward teen; but rather the Griffon that he’d heard so much about. There was something deadly in that gaze that Noctis couldn’t quite place – nor did he have time to.

The Couerl had already set its sights on the blond, apparently now seeing him as the greater threat of the two.

He’d given Prompto his gun back; his blade however, was another matter entirely. He wasn’t equipped for close-range combat, meaning it was up to Noctis to keep the Couerl busy.

With a fizzle of the crystals energies between his fingertips, he swapped out the blade for a greatsword instead. It provided more severe wounds to the target; but significantly slowed his reaction times. Leaning backwards and launching the over-sized blade through the air at the Couerl, he warped the moment it collided with flesh. 

The beast roared out immediately. Blood oozed from where the sword had pierced its shoulder and Noctis took the moment of surprise to rip it free; further injuring their foe. Prompto wasn’t holding still either, already reloading his gun with swift speed before letting off several well-placed shots at the creature’s head.

Damn, he was one hell of a good shot. Each bullet hit its mark, with the final one embedding itself in the Couerl’s eye.

At that, it bucked. Thrown from its back, Noctis was forced to release his grip on the blade as his back collided hard with the ground below. There was a sickening crack as his head hit the rock; immediately causing black spots to dance over his vision, a whirl of nausea sending the world tipping sideways. Any attempt to try and right himself and get back to his feet was only met with another fall to the ground, the world shifting uncomfortably to the point where he was no longer entirely certain which way was up.  
Shit.

After a third attempt, he was vaguely aware that the enraged Couerl had set its sights back on the young Commander. Rearing its head back, electricity began to crackle through the air. Even in his disorientated state, Noctis was aware how the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand up with the sensation; he knew all too well what was going to come next. Prompto wasn’t moving out of range. Apparently, the blond hadn’t had experience with a Couerl before to know this was the point you usually started legging it in the opposite direction.

“Mo-..v..!” No good. His words were weak and slurred, barely audible over the throbbing pain that had settled itself in his forehead.

The air continued to crackle.

He only had a split second to act.

Summoning Ignis’ daggers to hand and shakily getting back to his feet, which was a miracle in itself, as he still couldn’t quite work out where the ground was, Noctis threw the dagger forward.

Towards Prompto.

Six be thanked, he’d thrown it with enough momentum. As the blade neared the gunslinger, he drew back on the energies that still lingered and warped. 

Colliding hard with Prompto, the force was more than enough to push the stunned blond out of range and down a small ridge behind; hopefully safe for what came next.

All he heard in that final second was a crack through the air, almost as if Ramuh himself had dropped a bolt on the landscape.

The pain didn’t last long. Excruciating agony, then nothing, as the Prince slipped into darkness.

 

-

 

The last thing NH-01987 had expected was the Prince to launch himself at him, giving the MT no time to react as he felt the ground give out from underneath him; tumbling awkwardly down a small ridge. He felt his gun slip from his hand and heard the metal collide with rock as it bounced a short distance away. Thankfully, the ridge wasn’t large and he’d avoided injuring his mechanics any further. His back collided with bushes beneath that provided a prickly, yet soft landing.

There was not time to thank the Six for that one, because immediately the ground above lit up with a blinding light; enough for the blond to immediately throw a hand over his eyes as the crack of lightning assaulted his ears. It lasted but a moment; yet the sound that he heard over the electricity wasn’t something that was going to leave his memory banks for a long, long time.

Somewhere up in that assault, the Prince screamed out in what could only be surmised as agony.

There wasn’t time to consider that Noctis had taken the attack in his stead.

That he very well may have just accidentally gotten the Crown Prince of Lucis killed.

He barely realised he’d grabbed his gun from the ground nearby.

It didn’t even occur to him, as he scrambled his way up the ridge, that if anything he’d just done the Empire a favour.

He barely noticed as his hands snagged on sharp rocks, cutting into the flesh.

Throwing himself up and over the last bit of incline, he let his gaze fall on the situation up ahead.

The Prince was deathly still against the ground a short distance away. Several metres, if NH-01987 had to make a rough guess. It would take him roughly 3.8 seconds to cross that distance. Unfortunately, the Couerl had an advantage that it was closer to its prey; already stalking towards the lifeless form. It would take the Couerl 2.6 seconds to reach the Prince at its current pace, which meant NH-01987 had to make up that extra 1.2 seconds to save his life.

But… Wasn’t that defying the Empire?

He didn’t have explicit orders to kill the Prince, but there was no telling when such would come in.

For now.

For now, he had a choice.

And by the Six, he wasn’t about to let the Prince who’d showed him the joys of games, had treated him like an actual human being, who had saved his life once already, die.

Something in his chest ached in that split second as he recalled a moment from the days prior, stood amongst the three of them in the training hall as they joked and tried to think up a name for him.

_“My name. You uh, you wanted one. It’s Prompto.”_

Prompto. It didn’t matter what he thought of himself, it mattered that the others saw him as human. As something that could actually care for others; something that didn’t blindly follow orders. For all his operational time- all his life- he’d not once felt that he’d belonged with the mindless MTs around him, nor with the Commanders such as Loqi.

Noctis. Ignis. Gladio. They saw something in him that he’d failed to see in himself.

Humanity.

Sure, he was a machine, but perhaps humanity couldn’t be defined by biology alone, and instead as a mindset.

He wasn’t going to let the Prince die here.

It was selfish, but if he did, then he’d never experience that odd sensation of warmth and acceptance from anyone ever again. He’d be thrown back into the cold ranks of the military. And with a sickening feeling in his stomach, NH-01987 realised he didn’t want that.

Prompto didn’t want that.

Raising his gun and taking an accurate aim on the approaching Couerl, he emptied the barrel of remaining bullets as he set off in a sprint. Each shot hit its mark, and as expected the Couerl immediately shrank back under the weight of the attack, giving Prompto that final chance to throw himself forward over the felled Prince. It was only just in time to cover Noctis from the onslaught of claws that raked their way down his back as the Couerl recovered and directed its anger on him instead. 

By the Six, how hard were these things to kill?!

He barely registered the cry he let out as fresh agonising pain ripped through his back, aware of blood immediately soaking the ruined shirt that Noctis had lent him. Once the attack had relented for a moment, Prompto rolled over to face the oncoming danger, hands fumbling with the barrel of his gun as he shoved more bullets in.

With one last growl, the Couerl went in for the kill; fanged jaws wide as it sought to grab them both in its mouth.

Prompto let off another, desperate, round of bullets.

The bite never came.

Instead, there was a large thud as the beast stumbled and fell to the side; bleeding profusely from its mouth and choking on the crimson fluid.

Huh.

He’d killed it?

That thought took a moment to sink in, as the blond sat there huffing and heaving as his heart hammered away in his chest; with such force, it was surprising it wasn’t simply breaking out of his rib cage. Sure enough, the Couerl had ceased moving entirely.

The only problem now?

It was dark. Noctis wasn’t moving. Prompto certainly hadn’t thought to grab any potions before they’d left – and apparently neither had the Prince.

A creak and bubbling sound off to his right was enough to snap him out of his confusion over that victory. Of course, in the face of daemons, that victory suddenly sounded more like a badly timed warm up.

Turning his attention to Noctis, he scanned over the Prince before moving to press a hand gently against the cut on his head; eliciting a groan from the male, but no more than that. It wasn’t deep, but combined with whatever attack had hit him whilst Prompto had been below the ridge, it was enough to keep him unconscious for a while.

That was fine; he reckoned he could probably support him back to the Haven, injuries aside.

Ah,

The Haven.

Which way was that again?

Even now, he couldn’t hear that irritating hum of glyphs that he’d been so uncomfortable around before. There was no dim blue light off in the distance, no smoke of their fire visible against the increasing darkness of night. Silently apologising for the invasion of privacy, Prompto dug into Noctis’ pockets before pulling out the familiar cellular device from before; only to groan as he noticed the lack of signal.

Short of shouting for help, and drawing the attention of every daemon emerging in the area, Prompto had no clue what to do.

Strategically, the logical option was to leave any weaknesses behind – which.. In this case meant the Prince. But that was the Imperial way of thinking drummed into him, and instead, he found himself moving one of Noctis’ arms up over his shoulder before hefting the Prince somewhat to his feet.

“Could really uh, use you being awake enough walk…” Prompto murmured to himself, a half-hearted smile on his lips as he began to lead the two of them forward through the forest.

His own back still stung like hell, but he presumed the adrenaline from the fight was dulling it somewhat. His body was still on high alert; something he’d have previously put down to electric functions- now, though, he wasn’t so sure. Trudging carefully through the forest and attempting to make somewhat of a bee-line back to where he vaguely remembered the Haven -should- be, Prompto eventually had to pause to re-settle the Prince against his form. Noctis was breathing; which was definitely a good sign, yet it was laboured and uneven, the occasional twitch wracking his body – an aftereffect of whatever had hit him, Prompto assumed. It had sounded like electricity. Like lightning.

Eventually that adrenaline began to wear off and Prompto found it increasingly hard to support the Prince’s weight. A quick glance at Noctis’ phone clarified once more that there was still no signal. No way of getting a hold of Gladio or Ignis, who by now must have figured out that something had gone wrong.

“Noctis?” Prompto tried. “Prince Noctis?” He’d slowed to a stop, hiding them both behind a fairly large oak tree.

To his relief, the Prince did stir. Groaning, Noctis opened his eyes, an action that seemed to take quite a considerable amount of effort, before looking around then up to Prompto.

“S’not.. Prince.”

“What?”

“Jus’.. Noctis.” He clarified, groggily.

Seriously? The guy was practically at deaths door and cared more about how Prompto had addressed him than the fact he was, well, fried.

“Uh, dude, bigger problems. H-Hey!” Prompto stammered as Noctis began to close his eyes again, giving the Prince a small shake to rouse him once more. “C’mon bud, stay with me here. Princ-… Noctis?”

“M’here.” The Prince groaned, forcing his eyes open once more. Prompto had no doubt that he was exhausted and quite possibly in pain, but he couldn’t let him rest now. They needed somewhere safe.

Prompto hadn’t been deployed in such an environment for years and as such had no knowledge of what the best thing to do next was. Lighting a fire would possibly keep the daemons at bay, but that required leaving the Prince in order to find supplies for such.

From what he could tell, this small forest was situated near cliffs; unpassable ones. In the other direction, was the dusty plains that covered ninety percent of Leide.

That did however mean they were north of the Haven. North-west possibly. Six, now he wished he’d paid more attention to the maps in the dropship. 

They hadn’t walked far to reach the small forest in the first place; which meant at a normal pace it was a good thirty minutes or so back. Carrying Noctis? Probably far longer, possibly an hour.

Then again, they could hardly stand around and wait out the night with the daemons.

“Think you can uh, try and walk a bit?” Prompto asked, glancing to the semi-conscious Prince. He was just about awake, though his expression continued to be marred by a grimace of pain. Despite this, Noctis nodded and attempted to right himself somewhat. It wasn’t much, but it was a slight relief to Prompto’s stinging back.

He needed to keep Noctis awake.

And thus, Prompto found himself rambling. “Probably have the uh, worlds worst timing here but...” He trailed off, glancing to Noctis who had his gaze on the blond as they walked. “But I guess, I didn’t get a chance to thank you. For uh, saving me and all.”

“Almos’... killed you.” Noctis pointed out, a small smirk touching his expression.

True. Ignis had been the one who had stepped in and stopped the Prince. “Dude, just take the thank you, will you?”

“Should’ve... noticed sooner.”

Prompto blinked, almost pausing in their steps at the odd remark. “Noticed what?” He asked, keeping his gaze forward as they sloppily trudged out of the forest and onto the dusty, darkened landscape.

There was a frown on Noctis’ lips now, and not due to the pain. He’d purposely moved his gaze to glare at the ground as they walked. “The Citadel. With the game- “

“Honestly dude, it’s fine. I didn’t really notice it myself, either.” A lifetime of being told you were nothing more but an obedient machine probably had something to do with that.

That didn’t mean they hadn’t done anything physical to him, though. He knew for a fact he couldn’t defy a direct order.

Absently, he let his free hand touch against the barcode on his face, before swiftly halting the action before Noctis could spot it. Now wasn’t the time to be reminiscing.

With his thoughts so tied up, he barely noticed the uncomfortable energies in the air; but when he did, a quick glance ahead gave way to possibly the most relieving sight of the night: a short distance off, glowing runes were visible through the darkness, designating the camp site they’d previously left.

The effects of the electrical spell were clearly wearing off, as Noctis wasn’t relying as heavily on Prompto’s support as they began to near the Haven. He still looked exhausted and beaten up to all hell, but no longer like he was on the brink of death. In fact, there was a small smirk on his lips as he glanced over at Prompto.

“You look like hell.” He remarked, just about avoiding a stumble as he walked.

At that, Prompto laughed. “Not looking too peachy yourself there, buddy.”

Had the Prince not been struggling to walk, Prompto expected that response would have been met with a shove of some kind. Instead, he settled for the dramatic roll of eyes that Noctis sent him in return.

Clambering up the last bit of the Haven, they were greeted by a rather impatient and angry looking behemoth.. By the name of Gladio.

“The hell have you two been?!” He demanded, stepping forward next to the campfire. The anger on his expression died almost immediately as he took in the state of the two of them.

“Funny thing. Trees bite.” Noctis replied, with a surprising amount of wit behind his tone; which did nothing to further pacify the Shields tension.

Gladio groaned, shaking his head as he moved over to one of their containers; opening it up to pull out an elixir. Stepping over to the Prince, he pressed it into his hand and let Noctis crush it; the pain on his expression melting away almost immediately as the vial worked its magic. It was such a change, that Prompto no longer found himself having to support Noctis. Although, with the sudden change of weight, it was Prompto who found himself swaying slightly; only to be caught by Noctis before he could tumble over.

“You good?” Noctis questioned, concern on his expression.

Prompto nodded, chuckling weakly. “Yeah, sorry, can we uh, not fight any more crazy cat things in the middle of the night? Y’know, at least for a few more days?”

“What? Don’t fancy having me heroically rescue you?”

“Uh, who rescued who?”

“You heard me.”

“Think you hit your head a bit hard there, buddy.”

“Sure, sure.”

Now it was Prompto’s turn to roll his eyes. Still, there was a grin on his lips; mirrored by that of the Princes. No, Noctis’. Gladio just shook his head once more before gesturing to the tent.

“Ignis got a call from the Marshall. He’ll be back shortly. I suggest the two of you look less beat up to shit when he does, unless you want the lecture?”

With a nod, Noctis carefully lead Prompto into the tent, helping him sit back down. It was crazy, in the space of a few hours, they were no longer two awkward enemies. They were… Something else.

He barely noticed as Noctis shuffled around to sit behind him, carefully peeling up the tattered shirt on Prompto’s back to get a look at the damage beneath; immediately causing the blond to jump in a mixture of pain and surprise.

“Dude!” He complained, trying to budge away.

Noctis, however, wasn’t relenting. “Needs looking at. Unless you want to bleed to death?”

He had a point. But-…

“The hell?” Prompto heard Noctis murmur from behind him, and immediately tensed up. But that. 

“It’s er-.. Y’see, it’s night and so…” And so his injuries were likely already healing up slowly. Especially with the amount of photophilic particles in the air, it would be mere hours before those wounds were nothing more than irritations. Of course, more serious wounds took far longer to heal up and there was always the risk of infections. There was a deathly silence from behind him and Prompto didn’t dare turn around, instead resorting to furthering his terrible explanation. “It- It’s a good thing, really! Means I’m totally, uh, totally hard to…” Totally hard to kill. Hardly, but he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to say.

Those particles were the same ones that ate away at the light and powered many MT units.

“It’s late. We should grab some sleep.” Noctis finally broke the silence, moving over to his sleeping bag and unfurling it. Asides from tension in his jaw and shoulders, it was as if Prompto hadn’t just admitted to being one huge Niff fuck-up.

What?

Had Noctis even heard what he’d said?

Either that, or he didn’t care. But judging by the tension in his posture, Noctis more than cared about what Prompto had admitted. Something twisted in his stomach, and instead, the blond found himself budging over to where his makeshift sleeping area was; already lying down against it – hissing slightly as the fabric rubbed against his back. Closing his eyes, he practically begged sleep to hurry up. He could still hear Noctis moving around as the Prince slid into his own sleeping bag.

A minute passed.

Two.

Five.

Eventually he’d lost count, when:

“Thanks.”

The word was barely audible from the other side of the tent and Prompto had to blink his eyes open a few times, turning over to look over at Noctis’ back. Had he imagined-

“For saving me back there. Thanks.” Noctis clarified, still not turning over. There was something less tense about the way he was led, though.

Prompto couldn’t help but let a grin slip onto his expression.

“Dude, it’s nothing.”

_I owe you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I did make a minor mistake.  
> There's barely any forests in Leide, obviously. Apologies ;w; There is a small one like.. north of it.  
> Soorrryyyy~ ;w; I think at some point in my last chapter, dissertation worries managed to mess up my geography knowledge ahaha.


	9. Chapter Insert!

Hello everyone!

I wanted to add this mini section in quickly so that you all know I’m still alive. I’m so sorry about the lack of updates on System lately! I just finished University and am heading back home this week – I hope to get back to writing once I’m settled again. (Which should be mid-next week!)

As always, I love seeing your comments about the fic! It gives me life, really. I still have a lot more to write; and plan to cover all the way to the end of the game with this fic.

Keep on, keeping on, folks!

\- StylishChocobutt  
(ps have some free Prompto fan art I did because self promotion is fun)


	10. Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alongside Cor, the group take on Niflheim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the continued support!

“So… Let me get this straight for a moment. You’re camping with a Commander of Niflheim and you what... Trust him?” 

The Marshal confirmed incredulously for the second time that morning. This man though, was a legend: Cor the Immortal. Even Prompto had heard of him; tales had spread far and wide around Niflheim regarding just how he’d earned himself such a prestigious title, though with each one varying on the feat he honestly wasn’t sure which tale was true. They ranged from felling Behemoth’s and Iron Giants to delving into the depths of the ground itself and facing a mysterious and deadly foe. Yet, now really, really wasn’t the time to ask which one had actually earned him that title. Prompto had positioned himself just behind Noctis and was doing his best to keep his expression passive, or when looked at, he swiftly turned his attention to the nearest intriguing mountain or odd-looking cactus, shifting awkwardly on his feet under the weight of any gaze.

The heat of Leide poured down on the group as they stood just below a rock formation. Under Noctis’ insistence, Prompto had borrowed a vest and trousers yet even that didn’t seem to provide any relief from just how overbearing the thick humidity was. It was as if Ifrit himself was having a barbeque and they were the meat. For the twentieth time in as many minutes, he reached to the front of his vest and attempted to fan it out; trying to create a breeze for his slick skin underneath. Six, this was ridiculous. Even the gun he’d tucked into the waistband of his trousers had heated up considerably in the warmth despite the vest over the top of it.

“Not only do we trust him, but he presents himself as a valuable asset, particularly regarding information.” Ignis supplied in response, only earning a grunt of recognition from Cor. After having saved Noctis the previous night, Prompto had noticed that the other two had warmed considerably towards him. Apparently enough so as to defend his being here.

Where was here exactly? Well, Niflheim had erected a base which consequently was about to cut off road access to the west: to Duscae and beyond. According to the Marshal and his companion, Monica, that couldn’t happen – though Prompto had yet to find out what was so important for them to move on so swiftly. Not that he was complaining; the desert heat was totally unbearable. Duscae had wetlands. 

Wetlands. Which implied water. Water and cool breeze. Rain. Maybe all three. Oh Six, he hoped for all three.

“I don’t entirely agree with-“ Cor started, only to be cut off as Noctis intervened.

The prince stepped forward, arms folded across his chest and a light frown of frustration on his expression. “He’s staying. Can we go now?” Impatience lined his tone and Cor sighed in defeat. There was no arguing with the prince when he took that tone; a tone that meant his decision was final.

“We’ll split up. Highness, you’re with me. The rest of you will create a diversion at the main gates. Keep their attention away from us.”

“See you on the other side, then.” Noctis remarked, looking back to Ignis and Gladio.

The Shield scoffed, shaking his head. “Give them hell.”

“Damn right.”

“Do exercise caution, Noct. Though I have no doubt the Marshal will be watching your back.” Ignis began to step away from the rocks towards the main road they’d parked the Regalia on.

The plan was simple enough. Cause a ton of destruction outside the entrance; enough to draw the majority of troops away from the building so that Noctis and the Marshal could infiltrate and stealthily execute those who remained behind. Gladio and Monica began to follow Ignis leaving Prompto to fall in step just behind them, already reaching to retrieve his gun. The hot metal was uncomfortable against his palm, yet there was a familiar sensation of safety as he curled his fingers around the weapon. Gripping this weapon in Niflheim only ever filled him with dread and the realisation that he was to take a life; without questioning why. Now though, now he knew he was doing something right. As long as he didn’t have orders, he’d think for himself. He’d act for himself.

A group of Magitek Troopers guarded the gate from the outside, guns clutched in their hands as they stood in rows, staring out to the distance. For the most part the machines seemed to be inactive, with only the occasional creak or groan sounding through the air if one moved to a newly set position. No doubt they had orders though. Orders to shoot and kill on sight. The group had split up even further by now: Gladio and Monica were stood waiting on the opposite side of the road with the gate in between.  
Prompto had followed Ignis to crouch behind an old abandoned car which still smelled of dripping fuel, watching as the advisor pulled a circular vial from his pocket. It seemed to glow slightly, causing small ripples in the air around it connected to the familiar magic that Prompto had begun to associate with the Crystal. With Noctis.

“For our plan of attack: we’ll be careful not to alert them to our position. As such, throwing this flask in would be too risky. I’m going to carefully roll it across the tarmac, and I’ll need you to shoot once it’s in sufficient range of the Magitek troopers.” Ignis explained, his voice low and hushed as he analysed the situation and plucked out the most suitable course of action. There was no need to question Prompto’s proficiency with a gun there, and the blond carefully scooted along the edge of the car to get a clear angle on the road ahead. With a quick nod to Ignis, the advisor crouched low and skimmed the glowing orb across the tarmac.

It made enough noise for one trooper to look down at it, a creak of metal as its limbs moved. Prompto positioned his gun in front of him, waiting for a couple of heartbeats before lining up the shot and pulling the trigger.

The bullet struck the flask and the world went up in flames.

Fire streaked out across the tarmac with such strength that Prompto and Ignis were forced to briefly duck back behind the car; the screeching screams of MTs filling the air as they clattered to the ground, flesh and machinery alike burning. The moment the initial heat had passed, Prompto pushed himself to his feet and vaulted over the front of the damaged car, landing cleanly against the ground the other side before beginning to open fire. Ignis, Gladio and Monica soon followed suit. Gladio was the first into the fray, summoning forth his greatsword and bringing it down hard on two units which barely had time to raise their guns. Ignis backed him up by taking out a third unit which sought to strike the Shield from behind; though Prompto doubted the attack would have connected even without the advisor’s intervention.

Pulling his attention back to the task at hand, Prompto let off two more shots before the MTs finally realised they were being picked off from a distance. Their programming likely focused on analysing the situation before determining the largest threat: and in this case, being shot at from behind was apparently that. Two MTs broke away from the fray and began to run at full speed towards the blond, giving him barely enough time to vault back over the hood of the damaged car to place an obstacle between him and them. It was enough to slow them, but with gut-turning realisation Prompto noted that he’d only pushed himself even further back from the battle; limiting his abilities to back the others up. So, he’d just have to deal with the units first.

One gunslinger against two overly-powered killing machines.

What could go wrong?

A lot, apparently. The first MT to get around the vehicle had been equipped with a sword and held a much faster speed than expected. Dubbed ‘Magitek Swordsman’ it was a unit that relied strongly on its strength and weapons but didn’t have much in the way of defence or reflexes.

Huh, who’da thunk. Reading all those MT research notes back in Gralea had paid off.

Ducking out of range as the MT brought its sword down, Prompto raised his gun once more before letting off a volley of bullets at the machine. Each bullet struck true, yet only peeled further and further away at the metal coating; revealing wiring and glowing red mechanical eyes beneath. It was a grotesque sight. Chances were, this machine had once been relatively human. That sent a pang of guilt through Prompto’s chest as it finally buckled under the weight of the gunslinger’s attacks.

That thought had been a deadly distraction, for whirling on his footing only presented him face to face with the second MT unit as it rounded the car. Shooting wildly and backing up, Prompto felt the ground give way underneath him; sending him tumbling against the tarmac, the heat of the stone colliding with his back. Still, he didn’t give up his assault, even as the MT continued to advance. Gun held steady in his hands he aimed low for the unit’s leg, right where he knew several wires crossed and shot another bullet to create a shortage. Sure enough, the MTs leg went up in flames; but apparently Niflheim built them to last, because the damned thing was still going at him.

Raising its arm, with a click the hand dropped down and revealed a concealed gun.

A concealed gun that was now conveniently pointed right in Prompto’s face.

No no no! He was not going to be shot at point blanc range by a-

A greatsword came down on the MTs arm, severing it before Gladio swung the weapon up once more to cleave the mechanical being in half. It collapsed in a shower of fire and electricity as the Shield offered a hand down to the blond. 

“Damn it kid, focus!” He growled; though his tone was lighter than expected.

Prompto took the hand and hauled himself back up to his feet, almost tripping as the world righted itself. Still, he pushed a hand sheepishly against the back of his neck, waving off his previous screw up. “R-Right! Sorry about that!” He chimed, immediately turning his attention back to the battle where Monica and Ignis still hand their hands full with the remaining units. 

Things were about to get worse.

Their battle had certainly attracted attention, for two larger mech units that had previously been inactive and off to the side, activated. Both of them were the MA VELES-BIS models; a relatively old weaponry system that had been brought into Niflheim as one of the first prototype mechs. Equipped with two rocket launchers on the back, and guns on the front, they were lacking in weaknesses and incredibly difficult to take down. The legs and arms were the most fortified; leaving the centre of the body as the prime target. They also took a significant amount of damage from lightning. Which..

“Ignis!” Prompto warned, catching the advisors attention as he felled two more MT units. “Might wanna’ short circuit those!”

Apparently he didn’t need to say any more than that. Fishing another flask free of his pocket, Prompto could see from even his distance that this new one shone with electricity, practically sparking as Ignis threw it forward towards one of the mechs. As the flask collided, it was if Ramuh himself had let forth fury onto the machine; lightning sparking wildly and brightly as it assaulted and buckled the MA. 

Gladio had already re-joined the fray, and Monica seemed to be holding up well enough; but Prompto was well aware that they were only going to keep facing more troops as the fight went on. Already, he could see a line of MT units nearing the edge of the fortress wall, ready to drop down below.

So far no one seemed to be seriously injured; but who knew how long that was going to stay like that.

Without giving it much of a second thought, Prompto sped around the edge of the battle and made a bee-line for the shocked mech unit; which still occasionally buzzed with raging electricity.

“The hell you doing?!” Gladio’s voice roared over the battle, causing the blond to glance back briefly; able to see the Shield attempting to back away from the fight towards him. Prompto didn’t have time to explain, already clambering up to the cockpit of the crouched mech. Luckily, this one seemed to have been on auto pilot; meaning he wasn’t going to have to fight his way in there. The panel on the outside was the only thing between him, and access. 

_Sweet! Retina scanner!_

Pressing his hand down on the panel, he flinched as the machine scanned across his face. Apparently no one had thought to delete him from the system; as the cockpit proceeded to click open.

“You know what you’re doing with that thing?” The Shield had managed to catch up, though had turned his attention away from the mech after his shout to deal with two oncoming MT units.

In all honesty… Prompto hadn’t used one of these before. Hell, it couldn’t be difficult, right? “Uh, yeah! Totally. Just gotta-… Well, I’ll figure it out!” And with that, he slid into the cockpit.

Only to be faced with a ridiculous number of un-marked buttons, sticks, screens and warnings.

Well, _crap._

And as if to add insult to injury; the other mech was now turning in his direction. Apparently, it had caught sight of his little hostile takeover.

“Hurry it up, kid!” 

Six, he was _trying._ Why the hell couldn’t Niflheim build things with an instruction manual? He’d never had to pilot a mech in the past; though he had been in command of a dropship. How different could it be?

Taking a grasp of the control stick, Prompto pressed his hand against the second scanner; which lit up almost immediately and cleared all of the warnings away from the screens. A new burst of life hummed throughout the machinery. It was strange. Almost… Instinctual as he took a hold of the controls with such confidence as if he’d been doing it for years. 

_Guess I can thank programming for that…_

Reaching a hand across the controls and pressing down a dark green button, the voice channel opened up and allowed him to shout a fair warning:

“Might want to move! I uh, really don’t think I want to accidentally kill you guys!” Prompto called; his voice echoing out of the mech. To their credit, Ignis and Monica quickly detached themselves from the fight as Prompto pressed down on the screen once more. This time it lit up with a display of the enemies ahead, allowing him to swipe his hand over the targets to select them before unleashing the full ballistic power of the rocket launchers.

The immediate area lit up in a rain of fire and explosive power.

And consequently, the remaining units were blown to shreds. Not even the un-manned MA stood a chance. As the dust settled after the assault of the rockets, Prompto glanced at the screen to confirm that all the targets had been destroyed; which thank the Six, they had been. Getting out of the mech proved far more difficult than getting in it; first trying to find the switch to lower the machine, and then sliding free from the cockpit before letting his feet strike true against the ground below.

He was met with a complimentary whistle from Gladio, as the big guy assessed the damage ahead of them. “Hell, didn’t see that one coming.”

“I must say; that was some rather quick thinking on your part Prompto. I fear we’d have been far worse off without it.” Ignis hummed his agreement, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before advancing forward towards the now unguarded gate.

“Looks like you’ve got some worth.” Monica grinned, nodding towards the rather speechless blond before following behind. It took him a moment, but Prompto soon got his legs working to catch up with the others.

They didn’t have to wait long for the gates to slide open, revealing Noctis and Cor on the other side – along with a dozen or so dead MT units.

“Marshal, it’s good to see you again.” Commented Ignis as he strode forward; the others soon following in tow.

“Everything alright on your end?” Noctis’ tone held a exhaustion, even Prompto could hear it lining his voice. Yet, a smirk touched his expression as he noted just how much carnage they’d caused on the other side of the gate.

“Right as rain. Kid here’s got talent for distractions.” Gladio gave the blond a playful shove forward; which almost had him tripping over his feet from surprise. “The Niffs couldn’t take their eyes off of us.”

There was something warming about how Prompto found himself no longer included in that category. Perhaps things really could be different; perhaps he really could just walk away from the Empire.

“Thanks to you we were spared their attention. Good job.” And hell, a compliment from the Marshal as well. Things were definitely looking up.

“Gave them hell, then?” Noctis smirked, gesturing lazily with one hand to the mess outside.

That was enough to make Prompto laugh. “Wouldn’t have it any other way!” It was surprisingly elating; the feeling of fighting with others for the right reasons. Fighting because he wanted to and not because he had orders to.

“Yeah, maybe give us a little bit more warning next time you decide to blow a street up?” Gladio suggested, grinning.

“Dude, I did say move!” 

“Right, about four seconds before actually hitting fire?”

“Uh, who just saved your asses?” 

That was enough to make Gladio and Ignis both blink in surprise; only furthering Noctis’ smirk at Prompto’s rather ballsy comment. There was a brief moment of silence before Gladio let out a booming laugh; loud enough to wake any further MTs if they weren’t so lucky.

“Hah, alright, you can have that one kid.”

Prompto was more than ready to retort back; he really was, until a familiar sensation filled the air around them. It was thick, and almost hummed with energy – accompanied by a droning sound that was far too familiar to forget. Turning on his heel, he raised his gaze to the sky and felt his stomach drop in horror. Casting a shadow over the ground, a MT dropship approached before circling over the base. The energies hummed and spilled from its engine, powered by the same twisted force that gripped the Magitek infantry.

“Stay right where you are!”

_No._

_No no no no._

_This wasn’t happening._

Any grin that had been on his face immediately fell, expression paling as he recognized the voice. 

The voice of a superior. 

“Well well, if it isn’t Cor the Immortal. So you survived the Citadel.” Loqi Tummelt mused, his voice echoing over the intercom from the dropship. Prompto could practically visualise the smug expression on the blond’s face; he’d never gotten on well with the Commander and could still recall their meeting in Galahd where his words had been so full of spite. “And… Oh my, so the rumours are true. The Griffon of Niflheim! Or perhaps, should I say the Griffon of Lucis, now?”

The dropship landed, and the hangar door opened; revealing the blonde stood within, leant up against another mech armour. Though this one, this one was far more advanced than the one Prompto had just hijacked; with far more sophisticated weaponry.  
“A little far from home, aren’t we NH-01987?”

Prompto didn’t get a chance to speak up as Noctis cut in ahead of him: “He’s right where he belongs.” 

_Where I belong?_

That earned a laugh from Loqi. “Belongs? A machine like that doesn’t belong anywhere. It just goes where it’s told, right?”

“That’s-…” Prompto bit down on the rising nausea in his stomach. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, it speaks.”

“Don’t listen to him kid, little shit doesn’t know what he’s on about.” Gladio growled, reaching a hand off to the side to summon forth his greatsword once more. 

“Agreed; it matters little where you were born, Prompto. It is your intentions now that prove your loyalties.” Ignis caught his daggers in hand, a shimmer of blue and white crystals scattering to the ground.

Prompto wanted nothing more right now than to run; something in the back of his mind was telling him to run. Yet seeing Noctis, Ignis and Gladio, hell even Cor and Monica had stepped forward… Seeing them defending him like that-

“Loyalty? Oh man, you’re all serious aren’t you.” Loqi stared, surprise actually painting his features as he moved to stand. “NH-01987. As your Commanding Officer, I order you: dispose of the Prince.”

_Dispose of the Prince._

_Order._

_Commanding-_  
  
Prompto shakily reached for his gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm actually running an art giveaway on my tumblr if anyones interested o:  
> stylishchocobutt.tumblr.com
> 
> You can win a print! Woo!  
> Hope you don't hate me too much for this cliffhanger, folks.


	11. You're my friend, Prompto.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a gun to Noctis', Prompto has to choose. Orders, or friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I want to say a HUGE thank you to The_Asset6 because damn, I was really struggling with this chapter so we decided to roleplay it out to test out how the interaction would go, and the following was based off of how that went. I stg, every time I need a little help with Noctis, she's absolutely my saviour. <3 So this chapter is somewhat co-authored ~

_I don’t want to do this._

_I really, really don’t want to do this._

_Don’t make me do it._

The shock of his palm grasping around cold metal was a sharp realisation that he had no choice. Time seemed to slow as Prompto, as NH-01987, shakily raised it to the Prince stood before him, heart beating heavily in his chest and each drum drowned out the surrounding chaos. He couldn’t lower his hand. He couldn’t even let go of the gun. Everything continued to go in slow motion as Noctis began to turn, eyes a fraction wider as he noted the shaft of the silver weapon mere inches behind him; aimed directly at his back. Gladio was just as swift to act; already moving to charge forward and tackle him from the right, whereas Ignis began to position himself between Noctis and Loqi; the latter of which still stood in the dropship hangar, more than ready to watch the fight unfold.

Prompto wanted nothing more in that moment than to let himself be tackled, to let the gun be pulled from his hand before he could shoot.

NH-01987 on the other hand, his programming had other ideas. Time sped up.

NH-01987 swiftly pushed himself backwards, footing slipping slightly on the dusty concrete, yet the movement had been enough to move himself away from the charging Shield. Weapon still in hand, he changed his focus to the big guy and pulled the trigger. 

His orders were to kill the Prince of Lucis. But programming commanded that he deal with all obstacles.

_Please, stop._

The moment Gladio realised his fatal error in acting on such impulse, how he’d misjudged just how fast the MT could move, he attempting to shove his boots against the concrete in hopes of skidding to a premature halt to turn. Instead, the Shield let out a roar of agony as the bullet hit its mark; embedding itself in his leg. Crimson stained down the Shield’s trousers near immediately as he stumbled and eventually dropped to one knee.

“Shit! Snap out of it, kid!”

Now he could turn his attention back to Noctis. The prince had barely moved; yet any surprise had slipped from his expression and had swiftly been replaced by caution. Still, he hadn’t summoned forth any weapons and appeared to be watching the blond warily. There wasn’t fear on his face, but there wasn’t the resolve to fight back either. Noctis glanced back once to Loqi, before back to Prompto. Back to Loqi.

“Prom, put the gun down. Put it _down_.” The prince attempted, taking a step _forward_. Forward? Was he insane?

Prompto wanted to reply, he really did. Wanted to explain that he couldn’t. That the weapon felt more of an extension of himself than ever; that he quite literally was the weapon. Niflheim’s weapon. There was no changing that, and he’d been stupid to even consider otherwise for a moment. He turned the gun on Noctis. Despite his inner turmoil, there was no shake in his hand no longer. No hesitation nor incline to falter.

“M-Move... _Please._ ” He managed, the words tasting like iron in his throat as he spat them out.

“Ignis, deal with that machine. Monica, Gladio.” Cor took over, apparently finally having given up on waiting for any attempt at a plan. 

Ignis hesitated for but a moment before his expression hardened and any pity or wariness dropped entirely. “As you wish.” With that, the Marshal broke out in a sprint, heading straight for Loqi; who drew his weapon near instantly to accept the challenge.

“Let’s see just how immortal you are!” The blond smirked, stepping down from the dropship and drawing his own blade.

None of this mattered though. None of it.

Prompto’s.. NH-10987’s attention was entirely focused on the two before him as Ignis stepped up beside Noctis.

“Prompto. I suggest you think your next action through very carefully…” Ignis started, yet his words were accompanied by him grabbing his daggers from subspace. The threat was clear.

That was the problem though.

He couldn’t think.

He could only act.

Noctis summoned a dagger forth from subspace.

The moment the prince moved, NH-01987 pulled the trigger; the bullet flying through the air yet he'd entirely misjudged the angle and achieved nothing. With his hand shaking so much, grip so tight on the handle of the gun, it wasn't a surprise. 

Despite how his body moved fluidly without his own mental input, it didn't prevent the sick feeling building up inside him the moment he heard the gunshot - desperately wanting to look away in case he had shot Noctis. Luckily for Prompto, he'd missed by quite a distance and was immediately shocked to see Noctis charging forward. All he could do was step back against the dusty concrete and raise the gun again, yet by no means in time for what happened next.

Noctis' hand collided and took rough hold of his collar, instinctively NH-01987 attempted to throw the raven-haired male off, gritting his teeth and biting down on the sudden wave of nausea as his mind rejected his body's actions. The Prince took a hold of his own dagger, and threw it. Somewhere in the distance he heard Ignis shout in shock, but...

Suddenly the floor seemed to give way from underneath him; a horrendous burning sensation that could only be the Crystals influence enveloping the blond's body. For a split moment it felt as if he was being harshly tugged in two separate directions at once, entirely disorientated. NH-01987 did his best to dislodge the Prince's hand from his collar, before bringing a knee up to collide it with Noctis' gut; just as whatever magic had just occurred ended.

Ended with a crash, to say the least as the two hit the dusty ground on the other side of the empty blockade, far from the fight. The moment Prompto felt his back collide with the hard ground - accompanied by a sickening crack that definitely wasn't normal from his shoulder, he kicked up at the Prince once more with a surprising amount of strength.

It w¬¬as either a miracle or some Astral’s sick sense of karma that NH-01987 hadn't dropped his weapon in that scuffle, managing to land the kick before the Prince swiftly rolled aside, righted himself, and backed up. Pushing himself back to his feet, Prompto felt new pain surge through his shoulder; not daring to glance at it. Still dressed in little more than the borrowed clothing from the prince, there was no doubt something was now out of shape beneath. If only it had been his right arm instead; then the gun would have been useless. Prompto watched as Noctis dismissed his dagger once more, leaving himself entirely defenseless. He could do it. He could kill him now, right? No. Yes-..

_I have my orders. I have to execute the- I don't. I don't have to. But If I don't._

"Prompto, I know you're still in there," Noctis began, his voice carefully neutral. "Orders or no orders, you're still Prompto. You still have a choice here, even if you don't think so. You can break free. I know you can."

Even with the swirling emotions going through his mind, Prompto heard the prince's words clear as day, and for a moment they seemed to stall him. But only a moment. Raising the gun once more, any emotion slipped from his expression with a carefully placed mask of indifference replacing them.

_Please, no. Move!_

NH-01987 shot again.

Prompto expected the bullet to hit true; his aim was spot on, and there shouldn't have been relief flooding through him as Noctis phased expertly to the right to avoid the bullet; the projectile embedding itself in a wall further away. Yet there it was, relief. Had the Prince not moved, the shot would have likely been fatal and he'd have completed his orders in one easy shot, a thought that both excited him and repulsed him at the same time.

"If you really wanted me dead, you wouldn't miss." Noctis observed, deciding to take a different tack. "If you wanted to put a bullet in me, you'd have done it already."

"Just because you didn't have orders doesn't mean that wasn't your choice. You think the Niff's needed to give direct orders? They want me dead. That's simple enough. But you don't."

Noctis began to advance and Prompto watched carefully as the Prince stepped around him, keeping a fair bit of distance. Each one of his words physically _hurt_. No. That wasn't right. He'd only been biding his time, that's why he hadn't killed him. It had nothing to do with disobeying orders, right? _Had_ he disobeyed orders? Noctis was continuing to speak yet it was getting harder and harder for Prompto to follow the words exactly; a buzzing already rising in his hearing, his thoughts both scattered and conflicted.

"Prompto, listen. you're not a monster. I don't care what some Niff-shit in a fancy jacket says; you're not a bar-code or a piece of property. You're you." Noctis continued, "You're _Prompto._ "

_I'm not._

_I'm-.._

As Noctis walked around him, Prompto kept the gun trained perfectly on him; refusing to let him out of his sight. Yet, his expression was far from the emotionless facade it had dropped to earlier. As the buzzing and headache began to increase, he flinched against it and narrowed his gaze as his vision began to swim. Not now. This wasn't disobeying an order. He was just.. buying time. Yeah, totally, that was it. Buying time. His finger clenched slightly against the trigger, yet he didn't pull it yet. Instead, managing to speak; albeit strained. 

"G-.. Get.. Out of.. here." 

If Noctis just left now, then he'd just have to accept whatever fate came with failing his orders. That was fair. He was a machine. Only faulty machines disobeyed.

“No. I’m not going anywhere. You want to know what machines are? _Machines_ are the regalia, phones, hell, even petrol stations.” Noctis rambled, shaking his head. “Things that don’t think. You think, Prompto. You’re not a machine.”

Prompto watched in internal horror as Noctis lowered himself to the ground, dust smearing against his trousers as he raised both hands above his head, palms out.

“Don’t prove the Empire right. If you’re a machine. Shoot me. If you’re not, prove them wrong. Forget the day we played Kings Knight, the day we sparred, forget that you saved my life.”

Noctis raised his gaze to Prompto’s own, determination painting his expression.

“You’re my friend, Prompto.”

It hurt. By the Six, it _hurt._ Each word was enough to send both a sharp sting of realisation and pain through the blond's head, almost causing him to stumble on his own footing as he readjusted his grip on the gun aimed at Noctis.

Was he actually insane? NH-01987's body acted on instinct as he moved forward, raising the gun with a direct angle to the prince's forehead; stood merely inches away from him. His breath caught in his through; mixed with the taste of iron as nausea rose up in his stomach. Another glitch- No, that was a human reaction, right? He wasn't supposed to kill but- but these were orders. Orders that he had to comply with. The pain in his head was only worsening; vision near impossible to focus through as he focused on the trigger under his grip. All it would take was to pull it. Just two seconds and he'd have completed his task. Just-

Friend? Prompto blinked, the phrase entirely unheard of for him. For a moment his grip relaxed on the trigger. For a moment, he almost imagined this situation ending happily; all he had to do was throw the gun aside, let the others deal with Loqi, and be able to walk away.

It was such a beautiful resolution that he very nearly did put the gun down.

_As your Commanding Officer, I order you: dispose of the Prince_

Loqi's words, Loqi's order ran through his mind unbidden, and Prompto found himself pulling that trigger. His heart dropped as he felt his body unwillingly tense on the trigger; the heart stopping moment that he realised he was about to kill his friend. His first, true friend.

He turned the gun on himself.

It was a swift move; he'd still be pulling the trigger as ordered, just on the wrong target. It was the only amount of control he could pull back in a short space of time.

The gunshot sounded.

Pain seared uncontrollably through the blond's side, as the gun clattered to the ground. It was out of reach, but it didn't matter; the action had startled Prompto enough for the blond to stumble backwards; mind racing briefly in confusion at what he'd just done. Black blood began to seep from his side, a feeling that had become far too familiar in the past few days to be healthy.

"N-Noct."

The moment Prompto began to fall backwards, Noctis lunged forward, horrified. Catching ahold of the blond, he carefully tried to lower him to sit; hands near shaking as his mind caught up to his body. 

The pain was near unbearable leaving Prompto vaguely aware of Noctis supporting him up. Wherever he'd shot, it hadn't been the smartest place; already bleeding heavily out over the Prince's hands and onto the concrete beneath the two of them. Still.. The blond was relieved. He'd managed to avoid shooting the Prince, and with this much pain now clouding his thoughts, he barely had the energy or need to continue to try and act on those orders. In a dizzying way, he felt a lot clearer mentally. Physically, on the other hand, well, that hadn't gone to plan in the slightest. His rash decision was going to cost him. The moment Noctis pushed his jacket down on the wound, Prompto cried out; one hand desperately grasping against the others hand.

“Oh Six, shit, Prompto- I’m sorry.” Noctis stammered, eyes wide, the prince clearly at a loss as for what to do. Prompto wasn’t surprised; MT Units weren’t built to be healed by basic potions, there was little more Noct could do regardless.

Still, Prompto groaned in response to the apology, desperately wanting to re-assure the prince that his action had been his own choice: even if it had been a bad one. There wasn't anything to be sorry for. He'd fucked up in getting close to Noctis again; he should have kept his distance the moment he'd healed previously. This time, he wasn't so sure he'd get a second chance.

“What- How do I- Shit, why did you do that?!”

"T-Totally.. Couldn't let ya' have that heroic moment.. dude." Prompto joked, though his words fell into coughs, and were barely audible.

The world began to spin and Prompto was forced to close his eyes against the sensation, vaguely aware of an overwhelming taste of iron in his mouth, falling down his chin. He barely heard a mumble of ‘idiot’ from Noctis in response to his rather awful joke, already coughing up what he presumed to be blood.

Murmured voices fell into conversation around him. Someone else had stepped up beside Noctis, but the blond’s eyelids were already so heavy that he didn’t have the energy to see who. He felt a tap against his cheek, followed by a light shake, trying to tug him back to reality.

All he wanted to do was sleep.

“-mpto? Prompto. This is important.”

Ignis?

“-to close the wound-.. Anything.. work?”

To close it? Prompto couldn’t quite understand why they’d want to do such a thing after he’d quite literally just pulled a gun on the prince. Orders or no orders, why rescue a MT that could quite literally pose a safety risk to the one person they had to keep safe no matter what.

“-mpto? Prompto!”

The words were more desperate this time.

He was cold.

Everything around him felt cold, and distant. Even the voices continued to fade out of existence.

_You’re my friend, Prompto._

That was the first time anyone had referred to him as a friend. Anyone at all. Even as he fell to the depths of numbness and the bitter cold grip that tugged his consciousness down, Prompto was relieved. Like, really relieved. He’d defied an order, and managed to earn a friend. 

Even.

Even just for a little while.

“Prompto! Don’t-“

Just for a little while was okay.

Now though, now he was tired. Like, really tired. Super tired.

“Please-“

He was glad.

Machine or not, he’d done something right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN.  
> Please don't kill me in the comments for that cliffhanger.


	12. Please Don't Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a race against time to save Prompto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief thanks to TheAsset_6 'cause I might have stolen one of your sentences again. ily. <3 ;D Sorry about the wait guys! And for leaving you on the most evil cliffhanger.

No sooner had they watched the Magitek armour before them explode, smoke billowing across the concrete expanse of the base, than did Ignis turn on his heel and scan the surrounding buildings. He’d been foolish to believe that Noctis had the sense to stay put and let them deal with Prompto together; the prince had been as rash as usual to throw the two of them into a warp like that, and Six knew where they’d ended up. Noctis couldn’t warp to somewhere he couldn’t see and that narrowed down the possible locations vastly, yet still covered the majority of the base. The warp had been hastily executed; that meant the location couldn’t be too far away either. In a panic like that, Ignis doubted Noct had managed to throw the blade any incredible distance. With all that in consideration, that left the rocks that had provided their entrance or several of the rooftops that currently surrounded the retainer.

“Shit! Where the hell did he go?” Came the familiar rough tone as Gladio stepped up beside him, knuckles near white as he tightened his grip on his blade. The Shield walked with a slight limp, though potions had recovered the majority of the damage to his leg. Once he’d dug the bullet out, of course, and even Ignis found himself surprised by the man’s pain tolerance. Now though, his expression was contorted with a mixture of concern and anger. Ignis didn’t blame him for the latter; what good was a Shield when his charge had a habit of running headfirst into danger?

Still, the question was one that the advisor didn’t have an answer to, continuing to scan the rooftops and rocks for some, any sign of movement. Prompto had been armed with a gun, at this distance it was undoubtable that they would have heard the weapon fire if he had done so already. That gave Ignis some hope.

“Rooftops or the rocks that Noctis and the Marshal found their entrance through.” Ignis sighed, impatience already building up in the pit of his stomach as he turned to analyse the scene behind him. The broken Magitek armour still burned away, though Ignis could only make out one figure stood beside it. “The lack of any gunshot perhaps provides hope that Prompto has come to his senses, now away from the Commander.” It was a futile hope, but hope nonetheless.

Cor turned and returned to where the two were stood, a grim expression creasing his features. “Loqi bolted. Monica’s gone after him. Where’s the prince?”

Wasn’t that the question of the hour?

It was also, a question that was apparently far too easy to be answered.

_A gunshot cracked through the air._

It was such a horrific sound in the wake of what Ignis already suspected, only fuelling the unease and constriction of his breathing even further.

“The rocks.” Cor determined, already moving back towards the gate they’d just entered through. Ignis barely remembered setting off in a sprint after him, more than aware that the Marshal had intricate knowledge of the landscape by now and was probably their only hope of getting up onto those ledges without the ability to warp. Gladio, albeit a touch slower from his recovering injuries, was behind in an instant without complaint.

Even as the four of them ran and finally came to a section of the rocks that was a smooth enough incline to be traversed, the lack of any further gunshots was enough to set Ignis’ teeth on edge. Noct could phase, he remined himself, the chances of a bullet actually striking him in one-to-one combat were slim. It was different when there were three or four targets to keep track of, but a single target with a long-range weapon stood little chance against the prince’s defences. That was logical. Completely and utterly logical.

So why did his gut feel so tight with the dreaded possibilities that floated through his mind?

“Kid wouldn’t shoot, right? I mean, the fuck do those Niffs do to make those damn orders have an effect on someone like that?” Gladio growled, gaze narrowed as he rushed his way up the uneven slope behind Ignis, occasionally stumbling on his footing but determined to push forward regardless. Wasn’t that the same for all of them though? It didn’t matter what was thrown in their way, they would just keep moving forward.

The topic however was a pleasant distraction from the rushed climb through the pass. They weren’t far now, but the rocky terrain and occasional need to haul oneself up over onto a new ledge was slowing them down. “It would be my guess that it’s achieved through some kind of conditioning. Such as is sometimes done with animals, if you associate an action with severe consequences enough, the animal will no longer believe that the action is a safe possibility.”

“So what? Kid thinks he couldn’t put the gun down even when he could? He’s not some damned animal.”

“Perhaps not, but I highly doubt Niflheim treats its soldiers any better than a slaughterhouse would to it’s livestock.”

Of course, there were also several other possibilities. The adaption of associating actions with consequences was certainly an option, and likely the tamest of a few. Others that Ignis had considered included far more intrusive measures that did genuinely include physical pain and the thoughts alone were enough to make his stomach twist.

“He’s a damn good shot too. That another-“

Gladio’s sentence was cut off.

_Another gunshot._

This one being far closer, just at the top of the ridge if Ignis had to hazard a guess. Regardless, it had them all speeding up immediately; dread written all over his expression as they finally reached the tip of the incline and made their way onto the small rocky expanse that overlooked the base below.

Relief flooded through the advisor as his brain began to take in the sight before him. Though that relief lasted but a few seconds, as if someone had doused it with frozen water in wake of him coming to terms with exactly what he was witnessing.

Noctis was only a few metres away, his back turned to the group. Hunched over, and shoulders shaking slightly, Ignis lowered his gaze to what exactly the prince was hunched over.

Or rather,

Who exactly.

All personal and emotional thoughts were swiftly pushed aside as Ignis moved forward and crossed the distance between them and the scene before them in an instant. He was vaguely aware of Cor and Gladio on his tail, though the Marshal hung back as Ignis and Gladio reached Noctis and Prompto.

Had he not pushed such thoughts aside, the scene before him now would have been enough to make him gag in his younger years. Noctis cradled a near-lifeless Prompto in his arms, carefully supporting the blond’s head in his lap, muttering something to try and keep the latter awake. Even at a glance, Ignis could catch the pale palor of Noctis’ expression, and had no doubt that the prince felt the same sickening realisation that Ignis was just coming to comprehend. With one hand pressing down on Prompto’s bloodied side, Noctis barely spared his advisor a glance.

Pulling his gloves free, Ignis shoved that last bit of emotional attachment aside and focused solely on the present. Solely on trying to save a life. 

He turned to the Shield. “Do you have any curatives left on you?”

“The damn things didn’t work before, the hell would they-“

“ _Gladio._ ” Ignis wasn’t about to waste time being questioned in the matter. There wasn’t enough time to explain that even though the curatives had limited effect, to say the least, they’d had some effect. And some was better than nothing right now.

“All out.”

As expected. They’d used two alone just to get Gladio back on his feet, rushing to take down Loqi and return to their prince.

“The base below housed human soldiers as well as the Magitek infantry. Chances are there’s some form of infirmary for wounded combatants. We find that, we find potions.” Cor explained, already starting to move back down the slope at a quickened pace.

“On it. You good here?” Gladio hesitated a moment, eyes wandering to the fallen blond, then to the gun that rested mere inches away. Likely piecing together what had happened, if the solemn expression that fell on his features was anything to go by.

‘Good’ was a word Ignis doubted he’d be using for a while.

“More than capable of managing, the priority is getting hands on whatever Niflheim uses for its troops. Go.”

He didn’t watch to see Gladio leave, already turning his attention back to the blond. The blood loss was his first concern; the gunshot didn’t appear to have struck any vital organs, but that didn’t rule out it causing significant blood flow. If the stain over the ground around them, and over Noct’s hand was enough to go by, they didn’t have much time. Luckily, Prompto seemed to be slightly coherent still – though the advisor doubted it would last long.

Moving to settle himself opposite where Noctis sat, who finally raised his gaze to him – almost as if he’d not even noticed the conversation behind him before – Ignis tapped gently against Prompto’s cheek in an attempt to pull him back to reality.

“Prompto?”

No response.

“Prompto, this is important. I need to close this wound, is there anything that would provide aid for such? I’d prefer to avoid standard surgery.”

If there were curatives that Niflheim had in their possession to make this procedure easier, he needed to know.

The blond murmured something in response, but it was entirely incomprehensible. With a pang of stricken horror that Ignis tried to push back, he realised that if they didn’t act fast, they were going to lose him.

Noctis realised it too, already trying to rouse the other back to consciousness.

“Prompto?” He started, the lack of response only eliciting another attempt. “Prompto! Damn it! Ignis- do something! _Please!_ ”

There was something in that tone, the pleading behind it, that had Ignis summoning his dagger from subspace. Noctis watched for a moment, before turning his attention back to Prompto.

“Prompto, c’mon, don’t do this. Damn, I said prove them wrong, not shoot yourself!”

That confirmed Ignis’ suspicions.

“Please. Tch-“

Ignis didn’t need to look up. Noctis’ free hand gripped hard against the solid ground beneath, stained with the black blood that still flowed freely from the wound. Now wasn’t the time for emotional upset though; they had to work. Fast.

“Noct.” He started; looking up when he didn’t get a response. “Noctis.” That got the prince’s attention, at least. Expression pained, he looked up and averted his gaze from Prompto, expression hardened in an attempt to shove back any emotion that threatened to push past. But if the shake in his hands or the clench of his jaw was anything to go by, Ignis was well aware just how shaken up he was. Now just wasn’t the time for it. They could deal with that after, regardless of the outcome.

“We can’t wait on Gladio and the Marshal. We need to remove the bullet, clean the wound and seal it.”

It took a moment for Noctis to comprehend that choice of wording. “Seal it? You mean-“

“If it comes to it, yes. Your elemancy may prove invaluable to saving his life.”

It was a last resort option, but they didn’t exactly have any better methods of stemming the bleeding and preventing any further damage.

With that, he carefully began slicing through the shirt to expose the wound. Once the blade was near, Noct pulled his hand back and slid the ruined jacket away, throwing it off to the side with little care. Cutting through the remainder of the fabric, Ignis felt his expression harden at the sight of the wound. 

Now wasn’t the time to consider the possibility that his actions from now on could only worsen a bad situation. They didn’t have time for that luxury.

“I’m going to remove the bullet. When I do, I will carefully press the wound together, and I need you to act fast. Try to keep the burn minimal, but make sure its sealed the wound.”

An uncertain nod.

“Noct?”

“Yeah, I’ve uh, Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Do it in short bursts; we can check the wound in between. The aim is to seal, not to burn too much healthy skin beneath.”

Infection was likely still an issue, but something they would have to deal with later. They didn’t have any supplies to clean the wound with nor did they have the time to wait for Gladio and Cor to return. It was already so severe that he doubted Prompto would even rouse from what was about to come.

“Ready?”

A flicker of a flame as Noctis brought fire into his palm. “Yeah.” 

“On my word, then.”

With that said, Ignis carefully moved his hand to the wound before pressing a finger inside. As expected, Prompto didn’t even stir, despite how much agony an action such as this should have caused.

It took a moment, but eventually he felt his fingertip brush against metal, carefully hooking underneath it, Ignis brought up back up to the surface and free of the wound, pushing it aside onto the ground. Pressing both hands either side of the wound, he carefully eased it together.

“Now.”

He didn’t need to emphasise the command, Noct had already moved his hand down to the wound, applying the heated flames to the skin. Contrary to hopes, Prompto wasn’t as unresponsive as Ignis had expected.

The blond let out a cry – a sound Ignis wasn’t going to forget any time soon – and jerked. With both hands currently occupied, it was a damn miracle that Noctis had the reaction times to press one arm across Prompto’s chest, pressing down and attempting to hold him still. 

“Prom! Hold still, damn it! Just-“ Noct withdrew his hand from the wound, glancing up at Ignis.

Blood was still breaking free from it. “Again.”

He watched as Noct flinched at the notion of having to harm him again, glancing briefly to Prompto as he groaned from the likely-searing pain, hot tears painting the blond’s face as his chest heaved.

“Noct.” Ignis attempted to pull him back to the situation at hand. “Again. It needs to be sealed.”

It took a moment, but Noct eventually tore his gaze away from Prompto and focused once more on the wound. Readjusting his weight against the blond’s chest in an attempt to hold him down, he reignited the flame in his hand and pressed it back down on the wound; barely able to hold it in place as Prompto jerked and screamed once more, back arching as he futilely kicked out against the dirt. After a few desperate moments, he fell still.

When Noct drew his hand away a second time, there wasn’t any blood flow.

With that revelation, Ignis didn’t waste a moment in pressing his fingers against Prompto’s wrist, waiting for a moment before feeling the faint, but familiar drum of a pulse underneath. They weren’t in the clear yet, but definitely on the right track.

“Is he-“ Noct started, though Ignis saved him the pain of finishing that sentence.

“Alive, yes. Thanks to you, Noct. Though we shouldn’t stay out here too much longer; night is upon us and I’d rather get him to somewhere a little more suitable.” And Daemon free. “We’ll wait for the Marshal and Gladio; I can’t imagine they’ll be much longer.”

“Ignis.”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. I mean, he- You could have-“ Noct scowled, unable to quite get out the words. Fortunately Ignis had years of experience of trying to work out the princes intentions when words failed him.

“What ever happened up here was no fault of his own. We have Niflheim, and only Niflheim to blame for this turn of events. Had we been more knowledgeable of just how far their influence sat in their soldiers, then perhaps this could have been prevented. Still, as it stands, I am correct in assuming he chose to shoot himself instead of you?” Ignis inquired, now that they had a safe moment to do so. There wasn’t much more they could do for the blond without curatives or decent accommodation.

“I thought-..” Noct averted his gaze, to the base below. “I thought I could talk him out of it. I mean, he’s-“

“He’s your friend. I think it’s safe to say that he’s managed to secure trust in all of us; even Gladio. His actions today weren’t his own. The only action that was, was in defying those orders and turning the gun on himself; both a brave and foolish choice, yet one that may well have saved both your lives.”

Noct seemed to visibly relax a bit at those words, moving to wipe the blood from his hands over his ruined jacket that he’d previously tossed aside.

It was at that moment that Gladio appeared over the ridge, striding towards them with a duffel bag in hand. Once close enough, he eyed over the cauterised wound before frowning. 

“He’s stable.” Ignis swiftly explained. “Though without the proper restoratives, I’m loathed to attempt moving him.”

“Shit. Good thing we found these then.” With that, Gladio pulled free a vial from the duffel bag and passed it over. “Marshal suspects it’s what Niflheim use on their soldiers, kind of like a potion but... Well, whatever the hell it is, they had them lying around the infirmary.”

Ignis took the vial and turned it over in hand, gaze narrowing as he studied it. Unlike the familiar blue glow of potions, this one was near crimson in colour and seemed to swirl disturbingly within the confines of the breakable container.

“Had ‘em labled as restoratives.” Gladio continued, shrugging. “Don’t know what the fucks in it, but-“

“But it’s all we have.” Ignis concluded, gaining a surprised glance from Noctis.

“You can’t seriously be thinking that’s safe?!”

“We don’t have a choice, Noct. Moving him now could only further worsen his wounds, and as it stands even with the cauterisation I am doubtful he’d survive any further trauma.” 

Noct made a move to argue further, but Ignis’ explanation was absolute, and he gave in.

“Fine.”

“I would not do this if there was any other way.” Ignis explained, before pressing the vial over the cauterised wound. With an increase in grip, he felt it break under the pressure; the crimson liquid spilling out over the wound beneath. Just as a potion would, the moment it came in contact with the skin, it fizzled away; though even through the dried blood Ignis could see the restorative beginning to knit skin back together. “How many do we have?” He enquired, glancing to Gladio.

“One more. Doesn’t look like they keep those places in good supply.”

“Unsurprising. Magitek can be easily replaced; this is probably the reserves for a higher ranking officer rather than combat units. We’ll keep that one for afterwards. Now, we need to move him.”

“Cor’s gone to get the Regalia, said he’d meet us down the bottom. Monica’s tracking Loqi.”

“Right. Gladio, would you do the honours?”

“Yeah, I got him.” Gladio nodded, passing the bag over to Ignis – who swung it over his shoulder and got to his feet, letting the Shield kneel down next to Prompto whilst Noctis retrieved the discarded gun and his ruined jacket. Carefully, Gladio slipped both arms under Prompto before picking him up, and if the brief expression of surprise was telling enough on his face, chances were he had expected the blond to at least weigh something. Which, considering he was practically skin and bone under that ripped shirt, Ignis suspected he didn’t.

“Right, let’s get the hell out of here.”

* * *

The Regalia drove smoothly along the roads, smoothly enough that Noctis found himself battling sleep on more than one occasion as the scenery passed them by. Despite his suggestion that they were better off returning to Hammerhead, Ignis had persuaded him otherwise. According to the map that Cindy had given them, there was a petrol station in Alstor that was far closer, and even had added accommodation. Of course, that was probably just going to be one of the usual caravans, but it was better than nothing. There was no way they were going to get to Lestallum any time soon and especially not before night decided to fall. The car ride was slightly cramped, especially as they’d carefully rested Prompto across the back seat, with Noctis supporting his head against his lap, doing his best to try and keep the blond from being jostled around too much.

It sucked seeing him like that. It had sucked even more seeing the heart-breaking decision he’d been wracked with on the rocks. Sure, it had been a stupid decision to warp the two of them away from the battle like that, but Noct knew he’d had to do something, something to get the blond away from that damned Niff Commander. Some king he was turning out to be. Couldn't save his home, his kingdom, his father, and he’d almost lost his friend. What use was he, anyway? People were just going to continue dying in order to save him, and for what? So he could grab a few weapons and take down the empire? By the time he got that far, everyone he knew would be dead at this rate. He'd fight alone, he'd lose, and all that confidence his father had in him would come to nothing. He was just as worthless as the motions he was taking to save Prompto.  
He pulled his thoughts away from that with a scowl, looking up to where Ignis was focused on the road. The can of ebony sat in the cup holder had long since been emptied. 

“How much longer?”

“Not long.” Ignis replied, leaving at that.

It was the same response he’d had ten minutes earlier, and before that.

Gladio glanced back at the two in the back before reaching for the map and unfurling it; catching a brief glimpse of a sign as it zoomed past them before focusing on the paper. 

“Almost there. Five minutes, maybe.” Well, that was a bit more hopeful. 

Sure enough, less than ten minutes later saw them pulling into the petrol station just before dark. Gladio got out first, moving to the back of the Regalia and leaning across to sit the unresponsive blond up, before carefully picking him up and out of the car. Ignis already had their gil reserves ready, heading towards the shop.

“I’ll cover the caravan costs for the night, get him settled on the bed for now.”

“Right.”

Noctis followed just behind Gladio as they made their way across the parking lot to the caravan, moving ahead to open the door for the Shield before stepping aside to let him pass. It worried him to all hell that Prompto hadn’t even stirred once in the past hour, not since Noct had burned the wound; yet, he was still breathing. That was something, he reminded himself swiftly. Letting Gladio set Prompto down on one of the bunks in the caravan, Noct hovered awkwardly around before finally deciding on sitting atop the counter opposite. The caravans were always as small as hell; consisting of a kitchen – which Ignis would probably kill him for now sitting atop – two bunks, and two sofas at the far end. As a group of three, Ignis usually took the sofa and left the beds for Gladio and Noct, but now with four of them, Noct suspected sleeping arrangements were going to change drastically.

Gladio straightened up after having set Prompto down, briefly touching against the blond’s forehead with the palm of his hand.

“No fever. Need to make sure it stays that way.” He commented, glancing to Noct.

Apparently the expression of surprise the prince had adopted was enough for the Shield to swiftly explain himself.

“What? Raising Iris was hell at times, okay? Had a habit of getting herself into stupid situations.”

“Like wandering off with a Prince?” Noct smirked, unable to help himself.

“Yeah, and letting some stupid shit take the blame for it, too.”

“Huh, wonder what he was thinking..”

“Or you know, not thinking.”

That brought a smile to Gladio’s lips as he reached across the lazily punch Noct’s shoulder. It didn’t last long though, and fell solemn as they both returned their gaze to their wounded comrade.

Six, this was his fault. All of it. Everywhere he went, someone ended up getting hurt. Or worse. All because-

“Stop that.” Gladio grunted, turning his gaze back to Noctis.

“What?”

“You realise you’re damn easy to read, right? Stop thinking this is all on you.”

“I wasn’t-“

“Spare it. This wasn’t your fault, none of this damn shit is. So buck up, and keep your head up. Prompto’ll be fine, he’ll recover, and we’ll be damned if we’re going to let those Niffs get their hands on him again.” Gladio frowned, shaking his head. “Kid’s been through enough as it is.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“Damn right I am.”

Noctis rolled his eyes, refusing to make some sarcastic comment on that. 

“Now go shower, get some sleep. You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.” 

Though, Gladio was right. He did look like shit. Six, he felt like shit. Already moving towards the small-as-hell bathroom, he offered a lazy wave in Gladio’s direction.

Things would get better.

_They had to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I'm basing the restorative off of the ones that occasionally drop from MT's but can't be found in shops. Plus, there's a cool theory on tumblr that muscle stimulants and flesh fortifiers were made for MT's to stop them from literally falling apart. Sooo I kinda adapted it from that.


	13. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything gets a little too much. Luckily, that's what friends are here for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the late update! I've been so caught up with everything else. I've also set up a discord server recently for FFXV in which anyones welcome to join. Come chill with me!  
> https://discord.gg/xAzPtpU
> 
> Asides from that, I promise the next chapter won't be as long as a wait as this one was. I actually really enjoyed writing this one! Maybe I'm getting my mojo back~

Everything hurt.

Consciousness and awareness began to return to Prompto, but not without the explosive addition of pain. Not the ‘I tripped over’ kind of pain. No, the ‘shot ten times by troopers’ sort of pain. He couldn’t quite recall why it hurt, why his side quite literally felt like someone had delved a blade into it, and was currently in the process of turning that blade. Slowly.

There was the pain, yet there was also the heat. Leide was hot, sure, but it wasn’t this hot. Any attempt to shift uncomfortably under the oppressive and near-choking temperature was only met with more pain from his side, and the distinct feeling of something heavy pressed against his forehead.

“-..wake?”

Someone spoke. The sound itself sounded miles away; muffled and distorted. It bore a tone that should have been familiar to him, yet Prompto’s groggy focus was entirely on raising a hand to touch against the pressure on his head; feeling the material of damp cloth brush under his fingertips. He felt something- someone?- move next to him, with whatever he was currently led on dipping slightly. Finally, with some effort, he forced his eyes open.

At first, all he could make out were the blurred outlines of two people stood over him and another sat aside him, perched on the edge of the mattress. As his vision focused, and the muffled voices began to make more sense, Prompto felt his chest clench.

He’d shot Noctis.

No, he’d shot himself?

Oh Six, he’d tried to shoot the only person who had ever given him a second glance.

The only person who-

Ignis and Gladio were stood leaning against the wall – though Ignis stepped forward slightly; concern knitting his features almost immediately.

“Prompto, I need you to calm down.” His voice was surprisingly kind, considering he’d tried to shoot his charge. That made even less sense than the fact he was even alive.

Alive, and panicking.

Someone might as well have splashed him with cold water, that was how sudden and quick the reaction was; so sudden that he hadn’t noticed just how hard it was to breathe – especially with the heat – nor how his breath hitched uncomfortably in his throat as he tried to sit himself up; immediately feeling hands push him back down as Noctis intervened.

“Hey, stop- Just…” Noctis started, expression hardening as the blond flinched. It was an involuntary reaction, but even within the mess of his own panic, Prompto was fairly sure the prince had every reason under the sun to be totally pissed at him right now. He’d expected something a little more-... Well, a little more of the ‘how dare you shoot me after everything’ and less of these reassurances.

It took a moment, but he found his voice.

“Dude, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to- I, uh-“

Okay, almost found his voice.

Lying back down and groaning slightly as pain shot up through his side, Prompto moved one arm to rest over his eyes as he closed him; focusing solely on trying to calm his breathing. Noctis’ hand was still on his shoulder- and for some strange reason, it honestly felt as if it was grounding him to whatever reality he’d woken up in. Whatever reality it was where the prince clearly hadn’t left him atop those cliffs.

Whatever reality it was where he was wanted.

The seconds that passed felt like hours until he finally felt his chest rising and falling in a far better rhythm.

“You good?” Noct spoke up, grasp still gently against the blond’s shoulder.

Yeah, good. Totally good. Not freaking out or anything. It wasn’t like he’d tried to shoot the prince of Lucis. Nope.

Gulping down against the dry feeling in his throat and pushing those thoughts aside, Prompto offered a meek nod as he settled his arm back against the mattress and opened his eyes.

“I uh, yeah. I’m good. Sorry.”

He didn’t expect to see what happened next.

A smirk of all things crossed the prince’s lips. “Gonna keep apologising for everything?”

“I tried to-“

“Shoot me? Yeah, I get that a lot.” Noctis shrugged, withdrawing his hand and sitting upright on the mattress once more.

“But-“

“I don’t care, Prompto. You didn’t have a choice, I get that.”

Prompto paused for a moment, mind taking a second to register that. It didn’t make it right though just because he hadn’t had a choice and what was to stop it happening again. Still, those weren’t the comments that he found himself blurting out. Nope, nothing rational like that.

“Dude,” he croaked, “stop finishing my sentences.”

Noctis blinked, briefly taken aback. It was Gladio, however, who barked a laugh and stepped forward. “Hah, he’s got you there Noct.”

“Shut up.” Noctis groaned, though there was a slight smile still evident on his expression, a relaxed and lazy one but a smile nonetheless.

Stepping away from the conversation briefly, Ignis rummaged his way through the duffel bag that Gladio had deposited on the sofa the night before and withdrew the last crimson vial. Moving back, he held it out for Prompto.

“I believe this may be of some help in getting you back on your feet? Your fever has broken, but I wouldn’t suggest waiting the rest of the damage out if you can help it.”

Prompto stared at the vial for a moment. Those things were readily available for commanding officers of the army; Niflheim’s version of the Lucian curatives. They only worked on the magitek troopers however. They only worked on those who had been exposed.

“Help him sit up, Noct. This may hurt a little, Prompto.”

With Noctis’ help, Prompto managed to prop himself up against the pillows behind him – the cloth against his forehead falling to the side - biting down on his inner lip against the pain radiating from his side.

Yeah, note to self: guns hurt. A lot.

Taking the vial from Ignis’ hand, he carefully reached down to peel back his shirt – yet another borrowed one from Noctis. At this rate he was going to owe the prince a whole new clothing line. The wound looked clean enough, though was that-?

“-..Did you burn me?”

Noctis flinched. Apparently, that had been the wrong question to ask. Ignis stepped in before the prince could answer:

“Unfortunately, we were left with inadequate supplies and had to cauterise the wound with what was available.”

“Oh.”

Okay. That made sense. Prompto wasn’t entirely sure where they’d managed to get fire from. One of the flares in the base, perhaps? Well, that was a question for another time. He totally wasn’t going to push his good luck right now.

“Sorry.” Came the eventual murmur from the prince, who had taken to averting his gaze from Prompto.

For what? Prompto wasn’t quite sure what the apology was for. If it had been Noctis who had burned him, then surely he’d saved his life in doing so.

He couldn’t help but grin stupidly, and probably looked like a fool whilst doing it.

“Right, how could you do such a horrible thing? Saving my life, like? I should be totally angry, dude.”

Noctis glanced back, expression faltering to surprise as he took in the other’s grin and very obviously forced tone.

“Sure you didn’t hit your head too?” He shot back quickly.

Prompto laughed, gesturing to the vial in his hand. “Think this’ll fix that?”

“Don’t think there’s any cure for stupid.”

“Gee, thanks bud.”

And with that, both of them were grinning like fools. There was something about that which drained all the previous tension and worry from the room, even Ignis cracked a slight smile at their conversation, shaking his head.

“Need I remind you that potions don’t work just by staring at them, Prompto?”

“Oh!” Prompto blinked, still laughing. “Uh, yeah, sorry.” He’d totally just apologised again, but Noctis didn’t call him out on it this time. Moving the vial over the remainder of the wound, he clenched his fist on the fragile exterior and let the container break; red liquid hitting his skin and dispersing almost immediately in a slight cloud of smaller particles that felt like tiny pinpricks of lightning against his skin. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, but it wasn’t painful either.

Sure enough, as the small mist cleared, the wound looked a lot better. Six, it felt a lot better.

He felt a lot better.

“Better?” Noctis asked, glancing over the healing skin with a mixture of concern and fairly visible curiosity.

“Yeah, totally. Uh, do me a favour?”

“What?”

“Next time I decide to shoot myself, remind me that bullets really hurt?”

“Right, ‘cause there’s going to be a next time.”

“Dude, I’m serious!”

“You’re not.”

“I am!”

He wasn’t.

Finally, Gladio cut in. “The hell made you shoot, anyway?” Ah. That definitely sobered the conversation in the room. Noctis was doing his best to feign disinterest, but even Prompto could see it behind his gaze. Ignis moved to push his glasses up his nose, letting out a sigh that the blond was sure was frustration at Gladio’s timing.

“Gladio-“

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t want to know?” The Shield frowned. “Joke or not, there could be a next time.”

“It-.. It was an order.” Prompto explained, absently gripping a hand against the duvet and averting his gaze from the others. It had been an order, and orders were absolute, right? You couldn’t just disobey a direct order. It wasn’t possible.

“Right. And you have to follow orders?” Gladio pressed, though his tone lacked any hostility.

Nodding, Prompto continued, “If it’s from uh, from an officer, yeah. I can’t explain it, I just know it’s bad to disobey. Like, real bad.”

“Such as?”

“I-..” He frowned. He’d never disobeyed a direct order before. It hurt though, right?

“This is a conversation perhaps better continued another time. As much as I loathe to push, we have to continue onwards to Lestallum, lest we experience the Empire’s ire once more.” Ignis cut in, diverting the topic elsewhere. “We are still close to the border and I wouldn’t suggest staying another night. The Empire is on high alert following our infiltration of the garrison. Getting as far from here as possible is now our priority.”

Far from here. With, or without him though? Prompto was pretty sure he was a liability by now.

“Iris made it to Lestallum. She texted earlier.” Gladio turned his gaze away from Prompto and back to Ignis, folding his arms across his chest.

Ignis nodded. “Then even more reason to head there with haste. For now though, I do believe a shower is in order, should you feel up to it, Prompto?”

Huh, now that he mentioned it, Prompto noted just how much dirt caked his skin and likely matted his hair too. He could vaguely remember the scuffle atop the cliffs and presumed that was how he’d ended up in such a state.

“Uh yeah, that actually sounds really good. I feel like I’ve taken a dust bath…”

“You look like you’ve taken a dust bath, kid.” Gladio snorted, shaking his head. “C’mon, up you get.”

With a nod, Prompto carefully swung his legs round and over the mattress, wincing as the action irritated his side. Okay, so it wasn’t completely healed, but it was bearable now at least. Noctis pushed himself to his feet and held out one arm, which Prompto gladly took before hauling himself up to stand.

As the world tilted uncomfortably sideways at the sudden movement, it was only Noctis’ grasp on him that actually kept the blond standing.

“Sure you’re good?” Noctis frowned, not quite letting go just yet, though his grasp did lessen.

Okay. No fast movements. He made a quick mental note of that. Fast movements were a big no-no. “Yeah, yeah, so-“ Prompto just about avoided another unnecessary apology. “Totally good.”

“Uh huh. Need help walking?”

Probably, but Prompto wasn’t about to admit that. “I’m good, I swear! Just gotta’ uh, take it slow.”

Noctis didn’t seem convinced, but he did let go eventually.

Okay, now to keep the inevitable swaying to a minimum.

“The shower’s just down the other end of the caravan. I’m sure Noct has some clothes you can change in to, and shout if you need anything.”

“R-Right.” More spare clothes. Yup, he was totally going through the prince’s entire wardrobe at this rate.

With that said, Prompto made his way slightly unsteadily – though getting better – down the caravan to where the doors for the bathroom were. Opening them, and stepping into the room within, he was rather surprised at just how spacious it was considering the small size of the accommodation as a whole.

He could still hear the murmur of conversation outside the bathroom yet did his best to tune out of it; not entirely sure he wanted to hear the speculation as to why he hadn’t been able to give a proper answer earlier. Nothing in the past weeks had made a lot of sense.

First he was an MT.

Then apparently, a wanted fugitive.

Human?

Six, he wasn’t sure which one he was, if any of those at all. And then there was the worse option, of which the bloodstains on his shirt reminded him. The black bloodstains; far darker than human blood. A constant reminder of what he was not.

He wasn’t human.

He just wasn’t sure what he was.

Stepping over to the mirror, he took in the rather pasty appearance, still somewhat marred with dirt and the occasional smudge of blood. Thankfully, his own blood, not Noctis’. Shakily reaching a hand up to his cheek, he let his fingertips brush over and trace the outline of the barcode that tagged him as property.

As property of Niflheim.

NH-01987.

Even without that though, the stark crimson gaze alone was enough to set him aside from anyone else in the world. The same gaze that those _things_ walked around with. It was only when he felt his fingertips tense and dig into the skin aside his eye that he moved his hands to grip around the cold ceramics of the sink.

NH-01987.

Prompto.

Which one, what one was he supposed to be?

He’d aimed a gun at Noctis, he’d acted on orders that anyone else would have disobeyed. He’d known about Niflheim’s plans for Insomnia and had said nothing.

And despite everything,

They still wanted him around.

They’d given him a _home._ Not a squadron, not a unit, a _home._ Somewhere to belong where he was wanted, somewhere he could belong of his own free will.

With his hands shaking so much and his head bowed away from his reflection, Prompto tightened his grip on the edge of the sink, shoulders hunching as he curled in on himself slightly. The moment his breath hitched unevenly in his throat, he relinquished his grip with one hand to clamp over his mouth, covering an unavoidable choked sob; moisture sliding down his cheeks as he shook. The sounds of conversation outside the door had died away, but the blond barely took notice.

Eventually, his legs gave way and he slumped, sat against the sink.

Time passed. Though how much, Prompto wasn’t sure. Enough for his cheeks to be dusted red and his eyes to sting from the unbidden tears that he’d let slip. He wasn’t sure what had set it off, whether it was the relief from finding a sense of belonging, or the sheer horror of his actions up until now.

Breath uneven and ragged, he pulled both knees up to his chest and settled his face against them, desperately trying to muffle his distress.

He’d killed so many in the past.

He’d helped Niflheim destroy a city full of innocents.

He’d almost killed the prince of Lucis; the country’s last hope of survival against the Empire.

And now here he was, crying in a bathroom. Totally uncool.

NH-01987 or-

“Prompto?”

Noctis’ voice echoed through the door, followed by a brief yet slightly hesitant knock. Concern lined that tone and it only further twisted his already guilt-ridden gut. With his mind racing, Prompto couldn’t quite pull himself together enough to offer up a response – or an explanation for why the shower most definitely hadn’t been run yet.

For a moment, he wondered if Noctis had stepped away from the door. Tightening his grasp around his legs, he tucked himself further into his own space; squeezing both eyes shut as he tried to settle his thoughts. Settle- well, settle everything. Shakes still wracked at his body, his breath still catching occasionally as he tried to slow it.

Prompto barely noticed as the door clicked open, nor as footsteps hesitantly approached. Nor as they shifted slightly in indecision, before stepping forward suddenly as Noctis crouched;

What he did notice though, was being tugged and covered by a-

Hug?

It was awkward at best, especially at the angle Prompto had put himself in. But Noctis didn’t seem to pay that much heed, discarded set of clothes set aside and gaze set firmly, yet softly on the wall opposite. He wasn’t looking at Prompto; and something about that made the situation easier to cope with as the blond spared a glance up.

“Wha-“ Prompto began, though as his breath hitched once more, the word and following sentence was cut off.

Which meant Noctis could speak instead, which totally saved Prompto the embarrassment. Or well, any more embarrassment.

“When I uh, when I was a kid there was a huge storm over the city.” Noctis kept his gaze on the wall, his tone careful as he continued, “It lasted a few days. Sucked really, but I was dead scared of the lightning.”

Prompto wasn’t sure he could imagine Noctis scared of anything, considering how easily he threw himself in to the heat of danger, or pushed onwards despite the collapse of his kingdom. Still, he found himself focusing more on the prince’s words than his own internal panic.

“One night, lightning struck the power lines. Left the Citadel in darkness. I begged Ignis to do something. Didn’t like the dark much, really. Especially in a storm.”

Yeah, darkness sucked.

“Ignis had this bright idea of collecting all the candles in the Citadel and setting them around my room. Lit each and every one of them, until there weren’t any shadows left.”

A smirk touched Noctis’ lips.

“Dad nearly had a heart attack the following morning. Surprised nothing burned down, but the candles were lit through the night and I didn’t notice the storm once. Too busy focusing on how bright they were, than on the storm outside.”

At some point, Prompto’s shakes had stilled; even without him realising as he’d completely focused himself on the story. Focused himself on the candles, rather than the storm of his emotions and turmoil.

That was something he needed to keep focusing on.

“How many?” He asked; voice still muffled and slightly hoarse.

“Candles? Enough to light up the whole city. Not sure where Specs got them from, really.”

“You uh, never asked?”

“Nah. Guess I forgot about it until just now.” Prompto felt the movement as Noctis shrugged along whilst speaking.

Silence fell over the two of them, though Noctis didn’t complain once about the awkward – yet surprisingly helpful embrace – as Prompto did his best to calm the remainder of his panic down, still struggling to settle his breathing. The shakes were gone, and his stomach no longer twisted and turned with each and every contrasting thought that had been sifting through his mind.

Six, he probably looked like a total mess.

Still, enough time passed for him to find the strength to pull back some of his light-hearted humour into his emotion.

“You asleep there? Or is this uh, just a really long hug?” He chuckled; though the sound was still lined with an edge of hesitation. Worry.

Rolling his eyes, Noctis let his arms relax and moved to sit on the tiled floor aside Prompto, tucking one leg up and resting his head against it, the other outstretched in front of him. There was something awkward to his expression that Prompto couldn’t quite place; almost as if he was surprised at his own actions as much as the blond was.

With a huff, he managed to smirk. “What? Most people would kill for a chance to hug the prince of Lucis.”

“Dude, you were hugging me.”

“Well, you looked like you needed it.”

Oh.

Prompto blinked dumbly as those words settled in. It was true though; it had been enough of a welcoming distraction that he’d been able to pull himself out of whatever dark place he’d begun to spiral into. He’d managed to settle his panic almost completely; even if his future remained just as uncertain.

“Uh, brought you some clothes.” Noctis continued, as Prompto neglected to do so.

That brought the blond’s gaze to the pile that Noctis had clearly set aside on the tiles when he’d walked in.

“Sure that’s a good idea? I keep uh, wrecking your clothes.”

“Well, maybe you’d like to keep your blood inside your body this time?”

“Dude, the Couerl attacked you first.”

“Sure.”

“It did!”

“Right. Well, there’s a phrase back in Lucis. Third time lucky, yeah?” Noctis smirked.

Prompto was pretty sure he was on his fifth or sixth time lucky, but sure, he’d go with that. He watched as Noctis got back to his feet, and took the Prince’s offered hand to pull himself back up to his own; avidly avoiding glancing in the mirror at his reflection now. He didn’t need to do so to know just how bad he looked, how bad anyone looked, after a good ol’ cry-in-the-bathroom.

“Thanks, though, I uh, guess I needed that.”

Noctis watched him for a moment before nodding, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. Glancing once at Prompto, he turned to leave through the slightly ajar door, reaching out and grasping around the handle before pausing once more.

“Prompto?”

The blond stopped mid-step towards the shower. “Yeah?”

“The uh, story.”

Prompto waited, turning to look at the prince’s back.

“Those candles. Specs, Gladio and I. Think of us as them, yeah? Just focus on us, on now. None of the other shit around you. Not Niflheim, the past, or the future.”

Prompto bit down slightly on his lip, that previous sensation of belonging tugging at his chest.

“I don’t care about what happened at the garrison. That wasn’t you. This is you. You’re human, you’re Prompto. We’re friends. Got it?”

And with that, Noctis stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door carefully behind him; leaving a rather confused and dumbfounded Prompto stood there. This time though, that revelation had an entirely different reaction.

A soft and shaky smile fell onto Prompto’s lips.

“Friends.” He repeated, disbelief lining his tone and those words; a disbelief that was slowly evaporating.

Friends.

That was his home.

That was where he belonged, with friends.

Shrugging his clothes off, Prompto shoved them aside and stepped into the shower. It wasn’t dissimilar to the ones he’d used in the past. Reaching up to turn the dial, he tilted his head back as warm water burst free from the faucet and cascaded down on him, washing away all the dirt, blood and grime of the previous day. Washing away any doubts, any fears, and filling him with a renewed sense of…

_Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legit almost cried writing this.  
> And that memory of Noct and Ignis is totally my new headcanon; I can just imagine them huddling around a ton of candles, and Regis walking in like '....'  
> Please drop comments and let me know what you thought!


	14. INSERT

Hello everyone,   
  
You’ve probably all clicked on this like ‘OMG UPDATE’ and I am so, so sorry that this is just a small insert thing. Over the past few weeks a lot has happened and unfortunately my headspace for writing – of any kind – has gone completely out the window, and I legit hate myself for it, I really do. I know how much you’re all following this fic and waiting for it and **I PROMISE you I will continue** it; but perhaps sometime later next month when I can get my head on straight again?  
  
I am really, really, sorry. This is the second time I’ve done this to you guys, but I really do promise to continue writing as soon as I’m able to actually form a decent fictional sentence. ):  
  
As usual, feel free to keep up with my antics on my tumblr ‘stylishchocobutt’ and I will be posting the occasional update regarding System and my whereabouts with it nearer the time.   
  
I’m so sorry ;w; Just wait a little longer guys, I promise it’ll be amazing when I feel better~   
  
-StylishChocobutt, Rei.


	15. A Fitting End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery, and realisation. Home isn't where you're born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd here we have it folks!-.. Several months late. I will however be falling into a regular routine of updating Run Boy Run now that this fic is finished. Find it on my page!

Prompto lost track of how much time he’d spent in the shower, relishing and reminiscing in the spray of water as it washed away the blood from his skin, but more importantly, as it washed away his doubts. All those doubts about whether he’d found somewhere to belong, all those doubts about who he was – what he was. The warmth of the water was refreshing; the showers in Niflheim had solely been for washing as part of a daily and constant routine – the water had been cold and unforgiving, much like the frozen temperatures and snow the country was known for. Or the ruthless nature of the government who over-saw it.

Eventually he reached up to turn the dial down, raising a hand and brushing it back through his hair to push it away from his face; vaguely considering just how long it had gotten in but a few months, the few months since all this had started.

The clothes Noctis had left for him hung baggy on his slim form, the blond lacking the prince’s physique and muscle apparently. The shirt’s bright yellow, and has some kind of bird design on it; somewhat familiar to what he’d seen a long time back in Leide – or at least, it feels like a long time ago now. Still, it’s cute. Hair still damp, a short attempt to dry it in the towel is enough to have it poking up in the usual awkward fashion as he finally steps out of the bathroom into the caravan once more.

Apparently, he’d taken longer than anticipated; the lights are low, and there’s the soft murmur of conversation outside – vaguely recognizable as Gladio and Noct, judging by the brief guffaw of laughter followed by a lighter tone of sarcasm.

Just ahead though, past the door, Ignis’ is rummaging his way through cupboards, and had just pulled a can of soup free before noting the blond’s presence, setting the item down on the side and acknowledging him with a brief nod.

“We thought it best that you borrow Noct’s old clothes; though perhaps… They are a tad on the big side again. Apologies.”

Fiddling absently at the hem of the shirt, Prompto shrugged. Honestly? It was far more comfortable than armour; and without the bearing heat of the sun, he didn’t have to cringe away from it. Or the lights of a haven. Caravan was far better; not that he’d admit to it – there was something calming about sleeping under the stars too, bugs and all.

“Uh, it’s fine- really. Sorry I uh, took so long.” How long had it been? Six, it was a miracle no one had gone banging on the door telling him to get out.

“No need to apologise; I can certainly see the appeal of a long shower, especially after-“ Ignis trailed off, thinking better of that topic. “Perhaps you would care to help me prepare tonight’s meal?” He asked, gesturing briefly to the small selection of ingredients and pans he’d clearly been collecting prior from the cupboards.

One problem,

Just a small one.

Prompto’s near-damn sure he’s never cooked before. Sure, he’d eaten plenty in Niflhem – if you classed military rations as food; bars of various cheap imported oats from Accordo or Tenebrae; somewhere like that. It wasn’t that the country didn’t have the money for suitable rations; it was more that they spent such on the advanced military they were so proud of.

That very military that had left him in the dirt of Leide to die, under false orders from a manipulative Chancellor.

“Sure, I-.. Uh, I guess I haven’t really cooked before though. Not really much of a thing in Niflheim, y’know, with the cold and all…” Prompto explained, though was already stepping forward to help out. Besides, how hard could it be?

It was a normal thing to do right? If he wanted this normality, he’d have to work for it.

“Something simple then,” Ignis mused, “If you would care to simple chop the mushrooms, like so…” He trailed off, reaching across to one of the bags of mushrooms. Plucking a handful free onto the chopping board, he carefully selected one and cut it into fine pieces; surprisingly small really.  “Like this. Small enough so that Noctis doesn’t notice, please.”

“Doesn’t notice?” He was.. supposed to be hiding them?

“It’s for his own health. Noctis has a strong dislike to vegetables, and I’d prefer to keep on top of it; by any means necessary. He’s yet to realise I’ve been smuggling these mushrooms into his meal, So I would call that a nutritional success.” With that, he set the knife down and carefully pushed the chopping board – and its contents – across to Prompto. “Whilst you do that, I’ll warm the soup and cook the mince.”

“Gotcha’.” Picking up the knife, Prompto carefully repeated the actions he’d just seen Ignis do. Sure enough, it wasn’t hard to cut the mushrooms; but his were looking more like a shredded mess than the pristine example the elder had just presented. Regardless, they were soon roughly of the same size and ready to be served.

Ignis is already cooking the meat in the pan when he speaks again. “Perhaps you’d permit me a question?”

“Uh, sure.” That didn’t sound like a promising start to a conversation. Focusing harder on the mushrooms under-blade, Prompto did his best to avoid letting such thought show on his expression. It’s been a long day- a long week.

Stirring of the meat halted, Ignis cast a glance across at the blond. “What is it you intend on doing now, if I may ask? You’re a wanted fugitive from the Empire; no doubt about that. Disobeying a direct order must have its consequences.”

He…

Well, he hadn’t considered that. None of it. Sure, he’d disobeyed the order; but there was something even more unsettling surrounding the idea of betraying the Empire. Betraying his origins, his-

No,

Not his home. This was his home,

Or, so he hoped it was. This line of questions worried him otherwise.

“I uh, I hadn’t really thought about it..” Prompto offered, not entirely sure how to answer that question. Short of just leaving, what other choice was there?

Reaching for the can of soup, Ignis added it to the mince. “You are aware that simply by travelling with us, you are betraying your orders further; assuming there are even orders to begin with. Noctis’ safety is – and always will be – my primary concern. However, it would also appear we’re in the same boat, so to speak. The Empire hunts us, just as it hunts you now.”

“So-..”

“So you have a choice ahead of you, Prompto. Should you wish, I’m sure your.. expertise.. would be beneficial to us on the journey to Lestallum, and perhaps further. But at the same time, you are more than welcome to step away from all of this and lead a-“

This time, Prompto butt in; and rather abruptly at that. The knife against the mushrooms stilled as the blond digested that information and subsequently realised that wasn’t a choice he even needed to consider.

_“Those candles. Specs, Gladio and I. Think of us as them, yeah? Just focus on us, on now. None of the other shit around you. Not Niflheim, the past, or the future.”_

The future wasn’t any of his concern, not now. Prompto just wanted to live for the moment; and right at this moment, home feels like this caravan. Like this rag-tag group of guys who have been more of friends to him than anyone back in his own squad, or country.

“No, I-“

How to phrase this?

Regardless, Ignis waited patiently.

“Here. I’d like to stay here, at least-… At least for now.”

There’s a pause of silence, enough for Prompto to lower his gaze again to the mushrooms on the counter. It wasn’t really his choice though, was it? He was being selfish just by-

Ignis pressed a hand against the blond’s shoulder; a brief, but re-assuring gesture.

“Well then, I suppose we better teach you how to cut mushrooms neater, then.” And with that, he withdrew his hand, and moved to push the freshly cut mushrooms into the pan; leaving Prompto stood there somewhat dumbfounded and speechless, luckily the advisor didn’t look his way, nor pressed the topic further.

Prompto was grateful for that at least.

“Noctis is outside, but perhaps you could send Gladio in to set the table; it’s his turn.” Ignis suggested, finally looking up from the cooking to offer a slight, but reassuring smile.

“Right!” That was something he could do; and a good break from the heavy conversation. But, he was happy – they’d given him a place to stay, a place he’d happy accept.

Stepping out of the caravan, he squinted slightly in the change of light; particularly at the bright lanterns that surrounded the garage – clearly to warn off the daemons of the night. Or to give him a headache; joys of Niff science.

“Ignis uh, wants a hand.” He stuttered, breaking up the conversation between the two; though such had been so hushed that he’d been hesitant to do so.

Still, Gladio shoved across at the prince – who deftly dodged it – before getting to his feet. “Right kid, don’t let him fall asleep before dinner.”

“Like that’d happen.” Noctis groaned, rolling his eyes and returning his gaze back to his phone. There’s something awkward in the way he’s sat, the way his shoulders are hunched and his gaze rather pointed at the device.

Sitting himself down in the free plastic chair, Prompto winced slightly at the tug on his skin; the wound aching and stinging at the movement. It was a miracle he hadn’t fallen down the steps out of the caravan really.

“Uh, spoke to Ignis..” Prompto started, raising his gaze awkwardly at Noctis; rather surprised to see that he had managed to draw the prince’s attention away from his phone. Briefly though, he soon averted his gaze to the lights along the road.

“Yeah?”

“He uh, he asked if I wanted to stay. I mean, I said I did, but I totally get that I’m a liability; I mean, it’s not like the potions work or anything, and there’s the whole ‘oops I didn’t shoot the prince’ part, even if I did shoot myself- which still hurts like hell, and uh- I mean, I don’t want to stick around if you don’t want a Niff around, after everything I totally get tha-“

He’s rambling. Badly, like real badly. Luckily, Noctis cut in;

“Who cares?”

That.. wasn’t what Prompto expected to hear. “What?”

“Who cares where you come from. Or that you’ve got the army after you. So have we. It’s not like it matters. Pretty sure you’ve saved my ass more times than you’ve tried to end it, too.”

“Uh-“

“Besides, who else am I going to have as back-up when Gladio suggests camping?” Noct concluded, with a small snort at the suggestion. Like either of them could actually refuse Gladio’s suggestion when it came to it. But hey, the thought was there.

“Suppose you uh, you have a point.”

Another snort of amusement from the prince, who finaly turned his gaze on the blond. “You’ve got a home here, Prom. With us. Just don’t go committing treason, and we’ll be fine.”

“Dude, it’s totally only treason if I shoot the Emperor.” Prompto quickly pointed out; a grin slipping onto his lips. Not only because of his words, but because of the realisation;

Home. A word he kept hearing,

A word he kept feeling,

And he had it. He had a home.

“Heh, just try not to shoot yourself first.” Noctis shot back, before getting to his feet. “C’mon, Specs’ll have a heart attack if dinner goes cold.”

“Right!”

With that, the two of them headed inside the caravan; into the warmth and safety of the promise of a new day. Of a home, and of friends.

Three things Prompto hadn’t realised he’d needed,

Not until today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for keeping up with the fic, and I'm sorry about the delay! I hope you guys enjoyed it, and Prompto finally has a place where he's accepted and welcomed <3 No matter how human, or not human, he is.


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